


Cry Havoc

by orphan_account



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambrolleigns - Freeform, Angst, Based on personas and feuds as of May 2015, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Slow Burn, UST, Violence, ambrollins - Freeform, an ironic Fight Club AU, no one follows the rules of fight club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First, he wanted to fight.<br/>Then, he wanted to win.<br/>Now he doesn't know what he wants. </p><p>Bored with his life, Seth Rollins decides to risk it all by joining the city's not-so-secret fight club. The problems therein begin and end with one Dean Ambrose. He's pretty sure Roman's just there for the food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Seth didn’t know what to make of it when the weird guy with the black lipstick slipped him an index card with a neatly printed address on it.

The guy winked and mumbled something about the fifth dimension, but Seth didn’t pay attention, eyes drawn to the address that he knew was somewhere in the warehouse district by the docks. Somewhere that a college student that wasn’t hard up for money had no place being.

He’d heard of it before, heard that there was a place that guys could go to blow off some steam. And he’d asked around about it, but lips were sealed tight, and all he got in return were suspicious glances, like he was a narc looking to bust them for something.

The truth was that he was bored out of his mind. His classes were easy, his part time job left him feeling empty and restless, and he was getting tired of his elitist friends always whining about one thing or another. He tried sports, but other than the pleasant burn in his muscles, they didn’t do anything for him. There wasn’t enough adrenaline to get his blood pumping.

Maybe more than he was willing to admit, he had an itch that could only be scratched by the endorphin high that came from fists meeting flesh. Or maybe that was just the boredom talking. Regardless, he couldn’t deny the jealousy that seized his chest when the weird guy came to class with swollen, purple eyes and busted lips. Seth couldn’t identify whether he wanted to be the one giving the bruises or the one receiving them.

After his classes were finished for the day, waving off half-hearted attempts from his friends to get him to come to the bar, Seth admired himself in the mirror. He’d put his hair up and dressed in the tightest black clothes he owned. He knew his biceps looked fantastic flexing against the dark, stretchy material. He hoped he looked like a contender, at least, rather than a preppy university student.

When he was ready to leave, however, he hesitated.

There was a legitimate chance that he was about to have his ass handed to him for just showing up. But he’d been invited, hadn’t he? So he had just as much of a right to be there as anyone else.

He took his bike, which was much easier to get around in than a car, an old Yamaha sport bike that he’d bought for dirt cheap off a reclaimed property sale. The helmet he’d bought separately was probably the most expensive part of the thing.

From campus, it was a long drive to the warehouse district, the early evening air thick and humid. He got a few mouthfuls of exhaust and half a dozen mosquito bites before finally pulling in close to the address on the index card. He stashed his bike behind a dumpster and shook his hair out from under the helmet, letting it fall to his shoulders in its natural waves.

He was stopped by a burly man half a block out, already beginning to regret coming. For a moment, he felt his heart hammer like a machine gun against his sternum. When the man spotted the index card crumpled in Seth’s sweaty palms, he let him pass.

“Fuck,” Seth breathed, letting his hand rest against his chest. He hadn’t even got there yet, and his blood was already roaring in his ears.

As he moved closer and closer to Warehouse 412-C, the dull roar in his head became an actual dull roar, the sounds of clapping, yelling, and cheering building into a crescendo. Seth was tall enough to see over a lot of heads from the back of the crowd, but even he was impressed by the amount of huge guys, maybe fifty or so, who stood even taller than he did. Not to mention, he’d never seen so many fit people in his life.

They were goading two men who were locked in a death grip, upper bodies bare and slick with sweat. Their arms were twisted together, each trying to pain the other into submission. They broke when their skin was too slippery to maintain the hold, breathing heavily and eyeing each other tiredly, but with determination.

Finally, the man with stringy blond hair pulled the smoothest dropkick Seth had ever seen, going from standing to horizontal in a hundredth of a second. He caught his opponent on the chin, knocking him flat to the wild cheers he was getting from two-thirds of the audience. The other third looked like they’d just been punched themselves.

“You new?” a guy next to him asked, and Seth realized he’d been staring with his mouth open.

Seth grinned sheepishly, “That obvious, huh?”

The guy smiled back, and it at least _seemed_ genuine. He was as tall as Seth, with a thick head of reddish hair and a beard to match. “Sami,” he said, holding out his left arm. Seth noticed that the right was braced against his body.

“Seth,” Seth said, accepting the hand. “I knew what to expect, but I guess I wasn’t really prepared for it.”

“It happens,” Sami said, nodding his head. “When I first got the card, it took me two weeks to even work up the courage to show. But now I can’t stay away, even when my arm’s out of business for a month.” He gestured at his right shoulder with his left hand.

“That sucks,” Seth said lamely, eyes already being drawn back to the center of the warehouse and the makeshift ring where two more men, both handsome in different ways, were stepping up. One had a shaved head, tattoos running down his tan shoulders and arms. The look in his eyes could only be described as predatory. The other seemed completely relaxed, a lazy grin plastered over his features as he shed his leather jacket, handing it off to someone on the sidelines.

“You’re lucky,” Sami said, “you get to see Randy and Dean go at it on your first night. They aren’t usually paired up together.”

“Paired up?” Seth said absently, trying to calculate the sheer muscle mass of the two giants squaring off. He really needed to hit the gym if he was going to survive something like that smashing into him.

“If you want to stay, you have to fight,” Sami said. “If you want to fight, you have to give your name to Kane. He sets all the matches up. Claims it’s random, but…” Sami looked at him meaningfully, “there are way too many running rivalries around here for that to be the truth.”

They both paused as the fight began, the two men not shy about testing each other’s range and power. Randy went in for the kill immediately, but Dean twisted around him, moving faster than someone his size should have been able to. Eventually, however, Randy’s punches and sheer aggression began to connect, Dean rocking back with a blow to the temple.

As he recovered and shook his head, blood dripping from a cut over his eyebrow, his smile grew impossibly larger.  

“That’s Dean for you,” Sami smiled ruefully.

“Is he causing trouble again?” someone grunted from behind them, and Seth turned to meet a barrel-sized chest and piercing eyes, the frown on the man’s face severe and angular. Where were they finding these guys, Calvin Klein ads?

“Just the usual, Roman,” Sami nodded in greeting. “It’s been a while!”

“Work’s been kicking my ass,” Roman said, eyes flicking briefly to Seth before looking over him to watch the fight. “Randy’s gonna’ regret making him bleed, he loves that shit.”

True to Roman’s words, Dean was _laughing_ , which only seemed to piss Randy off and send him flying into even more of a fury. Seth wanted that, what Dean had. That joy that came from the fight, the freedom of being able to throw your fists against each other without consequences.

“You place a bet?” Roman asked Sami, ignoring Seth’s presence.

“Nah,” Sami grinned. “Like I’d put money on either of them when I don’t know where their heads are at.”

“No one ever knows where Dean’s head is at,” muttered Roman, eyes narrowing as Dean kneed Randy in the gut. “Not even Dean.”

They watched in silence for a few more minutes, neither man in the ring backing down, before Sami clapped Seth on the shoulder and began to lead him away from the main body of people and over to a small office built into the body of the warehouse. “I’ll introduce you to Kane, but you have to take it from there, kid.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that,” Seth said, running a hand through his hair. His mind was still absorbed in the fight.

“Just don’t make him angry,” Sami said, and Seth couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Lifting his left hand, he used his knuckles to rap on the door. “Boss? We got fresh meat.”

“Enter,” a deep voice said, sending chills down Seth’s spine.

“Good luck,” Sami whispered, cracking the door and shoving Seth inside.

The man sitting behind the desk in a crisp suit and tie was probably the largest human Seth had ever seen. He glanced up with disinterest as Seth entered, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit,” he commanded, eyes going back to the paperwork in front of him. Seth sat.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the large man put his pen down and focused his gaze on Seth, as though he was taking in every detail and every dark secret Seth had ever had. “My name is Kane,” the man said, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “I am in charge of each and every body that comes through those doors.” He paused, head tilting to the side. “Do you accept that?”

“Y-yes,” Seth said. He’d come this far, after all, even if he hated the idea of someone having any authority over him.

“Good,” Kane said, smiling a smile that somehow wasn’t one at all. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Seth.”

“Seth,” Kane repeated, dragging his eyes over Seth’s features. “I could use a man like you. You ever been in a real fight before, _Seth_?”

“Only once,” Seth said honestly.

“Did you win?”

Seth grinned at the memory. “I destroyed.” Just the thought got his blood pumping again.

“Confident,” Kane mused. “I like that. We’ll have to work on it.”

“Work on what?” Seth questioned, unsure.

“Are you up for a fight next week, Seth?” Kane asked, ignoring his question and flipping through the papers in front of him. “We have a doctor on call, but if you’re too badly injured, we’ll leave you in the street for passerby to find. Do you accept these terms, as well?”

“I…I do,” Seth said. He was afraid, it was true. But having seen the fights, he _needed_ it. Needed it more than ever. More than breathing.

“Perfect,” Kane grinned. “I have a feeling you’ll be a big hit.” Lightning fast, he reached out and snagged Seth’s wrist in a bruising grip. “Be here next week, or we’ll come find you.”

“I’ll be here,” Seth said defensively, wrenching his wrist back and rubbing at the skin.

“Then get out,” Kane dismissed him.

Seth hurried back to the circle, but the fight between Dean and Randy was already over, two different men having taken their place. He looked around for Sami before working his way over to the man in the back. Roman was still with him, and still ignoring Seth as he approached.

“Who won?” Seth asked, burning with curiosity.

“Randy did, of course,” Roman grunted absently. “Dean bet against himself.”

“Is that allowed?” Seth wondered, startled. If people could throw matches so easily…

Sami laughed, clapping him on the back again. “You gonna tell him no?”

“Touché,” Seth shrugged.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Sami asked. “You’re alive, so I assume well?”

“He put me in a fight next week,” Seth said, the reality hitting him hard. A real fight.

Roman finally looked him in the eyes, thick eyebrows drawing together. “Already?”

“I guess I’m just special,” Seth said. “Jealous?”

Roman rolled his eyes and turned away, moving to speak someone else deeper in the crowd.

“Making friends,” Sami waggled his eyebrows, “You’re already getting the hang of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People actually talk to each other. Such fight. Much wow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing.

He was hit with the sudden insight, as Dean’s fist smashed against the left side of his face, that this may not have been the best way to get the high that he’d been looking for.

All week, he’d psyched himself out, failing an easy pop quiz in Microeconomics and spending hours doing extra strength training in the gym. It’d only made him feel like a limp noodle, but at least it was better than doing nothing. He was pretty sure his roommate was closer than ever to murdering him in his sleep for coming in at so many odd hours.

He couldn’t help but check the mirror every ten minutes, looking for signs of increased definition, but he never did seem to change shape. Plateaus were the worst.

The week passed much faster than he was expecting, but he wasn’t sure if his nerves were from fear or excitement. Was he really going to do this? As he removed his helmet, secured his loose hair into a bun, and rolled his bike behind the same dumpster, he guessed so.

Before he could step into the building, he stumbled as someone bumped into his shoulder. He was about to get angry before he recognized the surprisingly bare face of the weird guy grinning next to him. “You came,” he said, smile somewhat goofy for someone who normally looked mildly unhinged. “I didn’t see you last week, so I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I’m here to fight,” Seth said, swallowing, mouth suddenly dry. “Thanks…for the invite.”

“Oh?” the guy sing-songed. “Kane must _really_ not like you.”

“Wha—“ Seth began.

“Cody!” Sami called, jogging next to them and slinging his good arm over Seth’s shoulder. “Stop freaking him out!” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if Ted hit you a little too hard before he left.”

“We do not speak his name!” Cody hissed before stomping inside, pulling a compact of face paint from his pocket and beginning to smear it over his skin.

“What did he mean?” Seth asked warily, him and Sami following after. “Why would giving me a fight mean he doesn’t like me? Isn’t that kinda’ the fucking point?”

“Well,” Sami sighed. “There’s normally a…a warm-up period, getting the newbies used to the pain before throwing them straight into it. The only one who’s ever had a first-week match besides you is Dean. And we never really worried about him.”

“But you’re worried about me?” Seth pressed. “I can hold my own.”

“I’m sure you can, kid,” Sami said, reassuring. “But it really depends on who you’re facing.”

Sami led Seth over to two white boards supported by large wooden easels. The first, larger board was covered in a complicated spread of numbers, probably odds, and a series of tally marks next to each name. The smaller board was a simplified fight schedule, and Seth immediately began to draw his eyes over it before they settled on the first match of the night.

Seth v. Dean (100-1)

“Holy shit,” Seth muttered. Cody was right. Kane absolutely hated him.

“Dude,” Sami said. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe he’d do this.”

“Who the fuck is Seth?” Seth heard someone drawl, and the crowd was pushed apart slightly as Dean, still sporting a shiner from the week before, narrowed his eyes at the board. “You assholes making me kick the shit out of a newbie? Seems kinda’ mean, don’t it?”

“Like you care,” Roman muttered from behind him, spotting his own name further down. “Wade? Perfect.”

Seth took a breath and stepped closer to Dean, whose eyes immediately settled on him warily before relaxing, seeming to decide that he wasn’t a threat. “I’m Seth,” he said, sticking out a hand.

“Are you, now?” Dean said with interest, slowly taking Seth’s smoother hand into his own rough, calloused one. His piercing blue eyes felt like they were setting Seth on fire. “You prepared to die, kid?”

“You first,” Seth replied evenly, smile growing to match the one Dean was wearing.

Dean laughed, pulling his hand back out of Seth’s only to ruffle the slightly shorter man’s hair, ruining his neatly tied bun. “You first,” he repeated to himself, shaking his shaggy head. “Maybe we ain’t gotta’ buy a coffin tonight, Rome.”

Roman wasn’t paying attention, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles, an excited gleam lighting his face.

“Take care of the kid before our match,” Dean told Sami, noting the way he looked worriedly between Seth and Dean. “I’d hate for him to fall and bruise himself before the fight.”

“The only thing that’s getting bruised is your ego,” Seth said, feeling more confident now that they were friendly. Maybe he’d survive the night, after all.

“Seth,” Sami hissed, nudging him in the side. No need to poke the fucking bear. “Dean, seriously, take it easy on him,” Sami said.

“No promises,” Dean said cheerily, giving them a jaunty wave before disappearing into the crowd.

“He’s not actually going to kill me, is he?” Seth asked, running a hand over his face.

“He’s definitely going to kill you at least a little bit,” Sami nodded sagely.

Seth tried to clear his mind in the half hour before everything began, but the truth was that he was having a mini nuclear implosion. He wished he hadn’t seen Dean fight, because then he could have convinced himself that he maybe had a chance.

He was doomed.

As the excitement began to build, he stripped off his black shirt, leaving him in tight black athletic pants and black running shoes. He felt over-exposed, but it was invigorating and terrifying at the same time.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Dean asked, appearing next to him as he had the week before, in a tight white undershirt sans his jacket, faded jeans, and dusty black boots. “You look like you’re gonna’ swoon.”

Seth snorted. “I look fucking great,” he challenged.

Dean grinned, unable to prevent himself from taking the opportunity to leer at Seth’s lithe, muscular chest. “That you fuckin’ do.”

Seth fought furiously to hide the red highlighting his face. Who the fuck said shit like that to people they were about to murder?

“You ready, kid?” someone on the side asked, eyeing him sympathetically. Seth guessed he was some kind of interim ref.

“Not even a little bit,” Seth said, he and Dean moving to the center of the circle and facing each other, spread five feet apart.

“Begin,” the man on the side said.

Seth tensed, narrowing his focus completely to only Dean as the crowd yelled at Dean to rip Seth’s limbs off. He watched Dean’s eyes, looking for any sign of movement or threat, but to his surprise Dean turned his head to the side and poked at his cheek.

“C’mon kid,” Dean winked. “You get a freebie.”

Seth wasn’t an idiot. He knew Dean was making fun of him and didn’t consider him a real danger. But if he only got one hit on Dean that night, he was going to make it fucking count.

Drawing back his right arm, he slid swiftly into Dean’s space and delivered the hardest punch he’d ever doled out in his life. The moment the skin of his knuckles split open on the ridge of Dean’s cheekbone could only be described as euphoric.

Dean stumbled back a few steps, eyes widening as he recovered from the punch, raising his hand to feel at his cheek and wipe a few drops of Seth’s smeared blood away. “How about that,” Dean muttered, smiling.

Seth was breathing hard, even though he’d barely done anything. He looked down at his knuckles, already aching from the impact, and he knew that he was smiling, just like Dean. It was better than anything he could have imagined.

“Well, fuck me,” Dean said, noticing Seth’s smile.  

Dean caught Seth with his own punch, cracking his knuckles against the side of Seth’s face. This time it was Seth who stumbled back, gasping as his fingers flew to the pained area. It hurt. A lot. Wow. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, because he didn’t think anything had ever hurt more than one of Dean’s punches.

But it was far too late to back out.

And somehow, they were both still smiling.

“You guys gonna fight or just fuckin’ stare at each other all day?” someone called.

Seth shook his head, wincing. Right. He had to take some more of those.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll drag you in here, instead!” Dean growled back. “Now, where were we?”

Seth couldn’t remember a more miserable failure. Dean was unstoppable, and no matter how many times he attempted to block, Dean’s fists or knees somehow weaseled their way past his defenses. He was proud that he’d even gotten a few hits in on Dean, enjoying the surprised look on the man’s face each time he managed it.

Finally, he couldn’t work up the will to stand any longer, dropping to his hands and knees as Dean’s knee expelled all the air from his lungs from a strike to the gut. “Fuck,” he breathed, blood dripping from his mouth and both nostrils, right eye swollen, both cheeks smarting like hell.

Dean paused mid punch, glancing down at Seth’s battered form. “I’m calling it,” he said to the ref. The crowd continued to cheer as Dean looked at Seth, wanting a KO to finish it out.

Dean lifted his hand, but instead of drawing it into a fist, he held it open and reached down. “Good fight, kid.”

Seth snorted, watching the offered hand for a moment before finally accepting it to help him up. Dean lifted Seth’s tired arm over his head and pointed at him, yelling, “Clap for this fucking idiot!”

To Seth’s surprise, a few people did, Sami putting in a wolf whistle from the back. He guessed they’d all expected him to be knocked out immediately. Seth had kind of expected that, too.

Dean jerked suddenly, twisting his head to look at Seth. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one,” Seth huffed, looking at Dean suspiciously, “why?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean grinned. “You’re buying us some beer.”

Seth rolled his eyes, pulling his arm from Dean’s grip and wincing with every motion. He didn’t think it was possible for every single muscle in his entire body to hurt, not since he’d put in so much time at the gym, but every movement was a new wound all its own.

“We’re stepping out for a minute,” Dean punched Roman’s arm. “Hold off your finish till I get back, I wanna’ see you pound his face in.”

Roman didn’t answer, just sighed, already turning to look at the new contenders entering the ring.

“You doin’ alright there, baby?” Dean asked Seth mockingly, taking his elbow and guiding him through the crowd.

“Ask me tomorrow,” Seth groaned.

“Seth!” Sami called, reaching them. “You did a whole lot better than I thought!”

“Thanks,” Seth deadpanned. All of a sudden, he felt the world drop out from under him, his vision going black as he fell. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking dizzily to the side to see that Dean had kept him from hitting the floor. “What…”

“Let’s get him to the tent,” Sami said, hooking Seth’s free arm over his good shoulder. “You probably gave him a concussion.”

Dean nodded, face frowning in disappointment at the loss of free beer. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sami and Seth bond. Kinda.  
> Rude awakenings all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to stop writing.

He could already tell that things were never going to be like they used to. It wasn’t a bad change, but it left him feeling out of his element.

He was lucky that fight club was on Friday, because if he had to go into work or class when he couldn’t even hold a pen, he’d be screwed. He’d woken up in an unfamiliar bed with a raging headache, and for a moment he thought he’d gotten wasted and passed out, but Sami’s far-too-cheery face appearing in the doorway rid him of that illusion.

“You’re awake!” Sami said, far too loudly.

“Ugh,” Seth groaned. “What happened?”

“Well,” Sami said. “You were pretty much out of it in the medical tent, but you kept talking about your bike, which took us _forever_ to find, and by then it was basically morning, so I just took you back to my place. That’s okay, isn’t it? All you had on you were your locked phone and your driver’s license, and considering that address was in Iowa, we couldn’t drive you _there_ and—“

“Sami,” Seth moaned. “It’s fine.” He looked around, noting the extra large bed he was lying in, the open closet doors and its full contents, and the cool-toned painted walls. “Am I in your bed?”

“There’s only the one,” Sami said, face flushing. “Bachelor pad and all. Don’t worry, I slept on the couch.”

“I’m not worried, but any other dude woulda’ just dumped _me_ on the couch, if they even bothered to help me at all.” Seth shook his head, groaning again at how swollen and puffy his face felt. “Geeze, did I break any of your mirrors with this mess? I feel like shit.”

“You do look like shit,” Sami agreed, holding out two ice packs that he’d brought in from the kitchen. “How do you _really_ feel, though?”

Seth paused, considering. “I…a little good, I guess? Yeah, I…” he looked down at his bruised and scabbed-over knuckles, felt the pulsing pain in his abdomen, the tightness of the skin on his face. “It hurts a hell of a lot, but…”

“That’s the nature of the beast,” Sami laughed, pressing one of the neglected ice packs to Seth’s right eye, causing him to flinch backwards at the cold shock. “But, ugh…”

“What?” Seth asked tiredly, throwing back Sami’s sheets and swinging his legs to the floor. They were probably the least bruised parts of his body.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly drive both my car and your bike at the same time, so…”

“Sami,” Seth said.

“Dean has it?” Sami said.

“Ugh,” Seth said, pushing his fingers into his hair. “I’m never going to see it again, am I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sami laughed. “He knows what he’s doing. We can go grab it after breakfast.”

Seth moved to stand, only to fall back onto the bed as his abdominal muscles spasmed with pain. He growled in frustration. He’d never felt this pulled apart before.

“Or maybe we’ll give it another day,” Sami said. “C’mon, tiger, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“If that’s a crack at my hair, it’s not appreciated,” Seth muttered, letting Sami help him from the bed.

He felt like a new, slightly less miserable man after using Sami’s shower, but a glance at his reflection in the steamy mirror told him that he didn’t _look_ any better. Fuck, he barely looked _human_ as he watched his reflection trace its fingers over his puffy eye and deep purple cheeks, the two splits in his bottom lip, the egg-sized knot on his left temple from one of Dean’s elbows.

He pulled on Sami’s borrowed clothes, jeans and a red shirt that hung looser on Seth’s frame than on their owner’s, but didn’t make him look ridiculous. How did Sami even survive in the world being so accommodating to people he didn’t even know?

Checking his phone, he was annoyingly touched that his roommate had called three times to make sure that he was okay after not returning to their dorm the night before. Seth sent him a text asking that he not call in the national guard and that he’d slept overnight with a friend. Immediately getting a reply asking “what her name was,” Seth rolled his eyes and shoved his phone in the back pocket of Sami’s jeans.

“You hungry?” Sami asked as Seth stepped into his kitchen, his _huge_ kitchen, pointing to a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, and toast.

“Tell me honestly,” Seth said, grabbing a chair and wincing as he sat, “are you going to steal my kidney, or something?”

“Don’t you think I’d have done that while you were unconscious?” Sami asked, grinning as he began to eat his own food.

“Cannibalism, then?” Seth questioned, stomach rumbling as he began shoveling in food himself.

“Also more easily accomplished when the other party is unconscious,” Sami replied.

“I’m onto you,” Seth muttered between mouthfuls of toast.

“You’re welcome,” Sami said wryly. “So…can I drop you off somewhere?”

“But…my bike,” Seth protested weakly.

“You and I both know you’re in no condition to drive right now,” Sami said firmly. “Dean’ll bring it back to you. Tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure I’d trust that guy with a butter knife, much less—“

“Seth, Dean won’t hurt your bike,” Sami said firmly. “He’s not as crazy as he’d have everyone believe, he just gets into these _moods_ when he’s in the ring. He’s a pretty cool guy in real life.”

“I bet you’d find something nice to say about Hitler,” Seth muttered.

“So, where can I bring you?” Sami asked, setting their dishes in the sink.

Seth sighed, rubbing at the bump on his forehead. “You know the way to the university?”

Sami dropped Seth off in front of his dorm in his—very nice, very expensive—car, and by that time it was late afternoon, Seth ambling into the building past the judging eyes of the student worker at the front desk. Luckily, his roommate was gone when he got to his room, and Seth collapsed into the familiarity of his own smell and his own uncomfortable mattress. Despite having only been awake for a few hours, he immediately drifted off to sleep, the painkillers that Sami had given him finally setting in and doing their job.

When he woke, there was light streaming through the flimsy blinds, and Seth blinked blearily as his eyes settled on his clock. 10:00 AM. Holy shit, did he really sleep that far into Sunday? Man, he was hungry.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, only then realizing that there was something wrong with the weight distribution on his bed. Looking towards the foot, Seth nearly fell out of bed when Dean waved back at him. “Holy shit!”

“Hiya,” Dean said, fiddling with Seth’s basketball. “You sleep like the dead, you know that?”

“What—“ Seth said. “How…how long have you been in here? Where’s Alex?” He thought he’d feel nervous or afraid with Dean in the room, but for some reason his sympathetic nervous system was telling him that Dean wasn’t a problem.

“Hmm…” Dean tossed the ball to the floor. “Me, an hour or so, and no idea.” He pulled himself completely on Seth’s bed, sitting Indian style and propping his elbows on his knees. “I slept three days straight after my first fight. Of course, I did break my arm in like three places, so we can blame it on the morphine. Was not a happy camper when I woke up.”

“How’d you even get in here?” Seth wondered, feeling as though he’d slipped into some kind of alternate universe.

“Chick’s workin’ the desk downstairs. I’m irresistible. And your door was unlocked. Not exactly rocket surgery, was it?”

“Ugh,” Seth said, reaching blindly below him for the box of protein bars he kept under his bed, pulling two out and devouring the first one quickly, following more slowly with the second. “Okay,” he said, taking a breath. “Are you here about my bike?”

Dean grinned, and for some reason Seth found it odd that a guy like Dean would have dimples. Reaching into his front jeans pocket, Dean pulled out Seth’s keys, tossing them on the blankets next to him. “Real piece of shit, that bike is.”

“Hey, that’s _my_ piece of shit you’re talking about,” Seth huffed, looping his finger through the key ring.

“Shame,” Dean said, looking Seth over.

“What…what is?” Seth asked, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

“That I wrecked your face. It’s basically the only good thing about you,” Dean said seriously, but his eyes were filled with amusement.

“You’re one to talk, you James Dean wannabe,” Seth muttered, pushing his hair out of his face.

“You ever consider growing a beard?” Dean asked suddenly, standing from Seth’s bed to pace next to it. “Not like mountain man, or anything, but something like Sami’s.”

“No…why?” Seth asked, confused.

“Just think about it,” Dean shrugged. “It might help you.” He made a move like he was heading for the door, then stopped. “My number’s in your phone if you have any problems with the additions. I’ll actually charge you if you want me to take ‘em off, though.”

“Additions? What additions?” Seth asked, now feeling more than a little concerned. “And how the hell’d you get past my passcode?”

Dean shrugged, face a portrait of clueless innocence. He turned to leave again.

“Wait!” Seth said, groaning as he moved to sit up straight. “If you brought me my bike, then how are you getting home?”

“What, you worried about little old me?” Dean said, eyebrows scrunching into his forehead. “I’ll take the bus, kid, like all the other thespians.”

“I think you mean plebeians,” Seth said dryly.

“Whatever, college boy,” Dean said, and Seth thought he might have hit a nerve, even if he didn’t know which one it was. “Rest up and make your face all pretty again. I’ll see you Friday. You better hope you don’t get a rematch.”

“Dean,” Seth said. “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Dean shrugged, pulling open the door and letting it slam behind him as he left.

Seth spent a few minutes staring at the ceiling before a thought finally struck him, pushing him to move. What the fuck did Dean mean by ‘additions’? Climbing out of bed, still wincing, still in Sami’s clothes, Seth made his way to the elevator and then out of the building, into the parking lot behind the dorm. He surveyed the area, passing on a few cars and a nicer motorcycle before frowning. He didn’t see his bike anywhere.

His eyes flicked back to the motorcycle.

“Fuckin’ a,” Seth muttered, eyes widening. It was his bike, it was just…better. With a shiny body and…did Dean replace the windscreen _and_ the engine casing? What if he’d done something under the body, too? Fuck.

“Additions,” Seth muttered dumbly.

“Fuck.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth feels a disturbance in the force.  
> Things start to go wrong, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, Seth's persona makes him pretty difficult to write. He's a brave coward with both a huge ego and self-esteem issues. Feel free to call me out if you think I'm not getting him right, because I don't even know half the time. Thanks for all those who left nice comments! <3

Seth sighed in relief when his name was absent from the White Board of Doom the next Friday. He knew he’d be itching for a fight when he was healed up, but practicality told him his body wouldn’t be able to handle another heavy beating.

He didn’t recognize most of the names, but three did catch his eye. Randy, the tattooed giant, was in the last fight against someone Seth didn’t know, but just before Randy was Cody v. Roman (12-1). Seth was curious, he’d never seen either of them fight before.

“Is this the new blood I’ve heard so much about?” someone with a British accent said behind him, and Seth turned only to have to look _up_ into the face of yet another handsome fighter with dark hair and a dark beard. Through the man’s open white button-up, Seth could tell that unlike many of the men present, he wasn’t overly nor under-muscled, the planes of his body seeming to fit together in perfect proportion to his excessive height. “No one told me we’d got another breakable one.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

“I’m not particularly interested in that sort of thing, myself,” the man said, voice characterized by a put-upon aloofness. “But I could introduce you to some who’d be quite willing to partake.”

“Oi, Wade,” another person said, this one with a distinctly Irish lilt. “They putcha’ against Dolph tonight.”

“Oh?” Wade said, quirking one imperious brow. “I’ll enjoy putting that mongrel in his place.”

“Leave some fer me, aye?” the Irish man said darkly. Seth noted that the two of them together was a little bit terrifying, both standing tall, broad, and menacing. The Irish man wore his shock of red hair in a mohawk, and Seth wouldn’t even begin to guess what his day job could be.

Wade turned his attention back to Seth as Seth tried to slip away. “Do watch your back, young man. There are so many here who would take advantage, and I’d hate to see all that potential wasted.”

“Fuck off,” a deep voice grumbled, and to Seth’s surprise Roman stepped up next to him. They still probably couldn’t take the two in front of them, but Seth didn’t feel so alone in the sea of bodies.

“ _I’m_ not the one he needs to bloody worry about,” Wade said knowingly, “unless we’re in the ring. You know as well as I do, Roman, that unfortunate things tend to happen to children around here.”

Roman said nothing, holding his glare.

“Why the fuck am I not up there?” Dean asked loudly, apparently having read the board and complaining to everyone in a twenty foot radius. “Why the fuck—hey, Roman, where the fuck’re you?”

Wade glanced toward Dean’s loud voice and scoffed, expression morphing into one of abject disgust. “And put your beast back on its leash.”

Roman’s mouth twisted into a snarl as Wade turned on the balls of his feet in a dramatic, swishing exit, the tails of his shirt fluttering with the turn. “Ass.”

“Why the fuck,” said Dean, spotting them, “why the fuck do you get to go and not me, huh? Age before beauty, right? Or something.” He was unsteady on his feet, words slurring into each other, and the smell…

“Are you drunk?” Seth wondered. He could smell the beer from ten feet away.

“I,” Dean said, raising a hand and pointing his finger upward, “am a mature and capable adult, so fuck off, _mom_.”

“He’s only a little drunk,” Roman said. “No need to worry if he’s not fighting.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t _know_ he wasn’t fighting until he got here, by which time he’d be messed up if he _was_.”

“Let it go,” Roman warned Seth, grabbing Dean’s shoulder and steering him away. “I’ll get him some water. Find someone to stand with.”

Seth sighed and surveyed the crowd until he spotted a familiar paint-covered face. “Hey, Cody,” he greeted, trying not to back away at the hiss he received in return for his greeting. “You know anything about bad things happening to people like me? That Wade guy gave me some kind of cryptic warning-threat earlier, and I’m not sure what to make of it,” he asked. Cody’d been doing this for a while, it seemed, so it was possible he’d have some answers. It was strange thinking that he and the guy covered in paint were only a year apart in age.

“Oh, yes,” Cody nodded furiously. “Horrible, awful things.”

“Okay…” Seth said. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“They tried to get Cody,” he said dreamily, “but now all they get is Star. No one will touch him.”

Seth groaned in frustration. “What do you mean, tried to get?”

Cody turned, eyes darkening, and it was the most lucid-looking Seth had ever seen him. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Seth felt his insides freeze. He couldn’t be serious.

“Seth, Cody!” Sami called cheerily, arm free from its brace. “Hey Seth, you been okay all week?”

“Fine,” Seth said curtly, mind still turning over the ominous warning and the even more ominous confirmation. “Sami, what the fuck is going on in this place?”

Sami tilted his head, expression confused. “Well, usually, people punch each other and then they go home.”

“Fuck, Sami, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Seth said. “I,” he swallowed, running a hand through his hair, “Is fighting…all that happens here?”

“Seth, did something happen?” Sami asked, looking between Seth and Cody, who had turned away.

“Sami,” Seth said, trying to find the right words, “is it…is…sex…a thing here?”

To Seth’s surprise, Sami laughed. “What, did you get propositioned? Already? Geeze, that has to be a new record, or something.” He put a hand on Seth’s shoulder and pulled him a little closer so he could lower his voice. “There are a lot of attractive guys here, I think it’d be weirder if none of them were a little less than straight.”

“That’s not really…” Seth trailed off.

“And you’re the first new guy who’s showed up in a while, so I guess it’s natural that they’re curious about you. If you’re not interested, just say so. They’ll get the picture pretty fast.”

“No, Sami, that’s not what—“

“Hey, look, they’re starting!” Sami pointed as two men stepped into the circle.

Seth sighed and moved closer to the circle with Sami, mind weighed down with thought. Was Sami deliberately avoiding answering him? Was he overreacting? Was Cody just being weird? Either way, his nerves were on edge.

Roman shoved someone to Seth’s left to take the spot next to him, glare cutting off the pushed man’s protest.

“Is Dean okay?” Seth asked hesitantly. It was true that he hadn’t known Roman for long, but he seemed even angrier than usual. His normally disinterested eyes were stormy with underlying emotion.

“He’s sleeping it off in my truck,” Roman said.

“Are _you_ okay?” Seth pressed, noting the tension in Roman’s flexing arms.

“Fuck off,” Roman grumbled, pulling his long black hair into a ponytail behind his head.

They stood next to each other in silence for a minutes as they watched the fight, shoulders brushing. It quickly became apparent that neither of the men in the ring were very good, both hesitating to throw punches and throwing poor ones when they did. Seth had to wonder why they even joined, and who would even invite them.

“Stay away from Wade,” Roman said suddenly. “He likes to fuck with people’s heads.”

“What did he mean earlier?” Seth asked sharply. “And don’t blow me off, just tell me.”

“Some guys like to mess with newbies,” Roman said. He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly intending for that to be the end of the conversation, but Seth wouldn’t let it drop so easily.

“Define ‘mess with,’” Seth said.

“You ever think about growing a beard?” Roman asked offhand.

“What?” Seth asked, startled. “Why would…Dean asked me that too, you know. Asked if I’d thought about growing one. What the fuck is so important about facial hair?”

“It’s not about the hair,” Roman sighed, hand reaching up to ghost over his own beard. “It’s about looking older. Less…like you do. And being friends with Dean definitely doesn’t help.”

“Looking…” Seth repeated, touching his face. “The guys who mess with newbies, are you saying they do it because…there’s something up with the way I look?” It’s not like he would change that much, even if he did start growing his hair out. “You know how messed up that sounds?”

“I don’t agree with it,” Roman said, “but Kane won’t kick them out. They fight dirty. They make him money.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Seth asked, letting slip a frantic edge to his words. “ _Besides_ the beard thing. I just wanted to fight, man.”

“As long as you’re not alone, you’ll be fine,” Roman said, surprisingly reassuring. “We’ll keep an eye out for you. And eventually, they’ll let it go.”

“Eventually,” Seth repeated, unconvinced.

They both turned as the fight ended and Wade stepped into the ring, along with the blond man with stringy hair that Seth had seen his first night. He assumed that must be Dolph. Both men stared at each other like their opponent was the most disgusting thing they’d ever seen, clearly no love lost between them.

Sami startled Roman and Seth by pushing his way between them, hooking his arms over Seth’s left and Roman’s right. “Wade beat Dolph, Dolph beat Wade, Wade beat Dolph again,” Sami mused, eyes flickering upward as he recounted their rivalry. “I heard a rumor that they work for rival companies downtown and that Wade somehow got a hold of proprietary technology from Dolph’s company. Who knew corporate espionage could get so physical?”

“I don’t mean to doubt you,” Seth said, gauging the fighter’s bodies again, “but it’s hard to see anyone beating Wade. Look, he moves like a boxer. He looks trained.” And he did, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders, putting his arms up in a perfect guard. Seth admittedly didn’t know much about professional fighting, but this was it if he’d ever seen it.

Roman growled and extracted his arm from Sami’s hold, shaking him away. “Form isn’t everything. Gotta’ have heart.”

Seth stared at him, surprised, until the ref motioned for the fight to begin.

Seth was impressed with how well Dolph held his own, clearly an expert himself at airborne movement. Both appeared equally matched until, attempting a dropkick, Dolph’s leg was caught under one of Wade’s arms and viciously twisted to the side, at the least tearing muscles, if not spraining the leg. His cry of pain dampened the cheers slightly until they picked back up again when Wade raised his arms over his head, announcing his victory, and bowed sweepingly to the crowd.

Seth swallowed, eyes riveted to the man in pain, clutching at his leg. Sometimes it was easy to forget how one wrong move could put you out of business for a long, long time.

“Poor guy,” Sami said sympathetically, feeling at his own arm. “He may not come back from that.”

“I’m not sure his heart helped him that much,” Seth said wryly, trying not to wince or turn away as a few people labelled as medical staff helped carry Dolph from the ring. He had to face the reality that this could be him, that this was what he was risking by showing up every week.

Still, as he stared at the fading bruises on his own knuckles, he knew he wouldn’t be able to quit. Not as long as he was still standing.   


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pie is eaten.  
> Plot and waistlines thicken.

Roman growled as Dean threw a fry at his face, the latter having apparently recovered from his drunken stupor. Seth glanced between both of them, wondering why he’d even been invited. Well, more like dragged. It was clear that they’d been friends for a long time, and he felt like a third wheel.

Setting his elbows on the greasy surface of the table, he let his head rest against his fists, blinking tiredness out of heavy eyelids. Seth was exhausted, and he hadn’t even had to fight anyone. He wondered how Roman could still be so awake and how Dean always seemed to carry around this unstoppable manic energy. 

Roman was impressive to look at. Seth had known that before, of course, but seeing him in the bright fluorescent lighting of the diner made him seem a little more human than in the dim glow of the warehouse. Tall, dark, handsome, the whole shebang. He fought with a sense of animosity, of instinct set to purpose.

He’d eaten three hamburgers, an order of onion rings, and a chocolate shake in ten minutes flat.

His fight with Cody had been short, but impressive, as both men knew what they were doing. Cody was talented at moving around, never staying in the same spot for longer than a moment, but it only took a moment for Roman to knock him out with a powerful spear to his midsection. Roman’s ferocity seemed controlled in way that Dean’s wasn’t, but then again Seth had never seen him truly enraged, only with the usual thundercloud of emotion hovering over his head.

Dean was impressive to listen to. He seemed to be able to talk for days about the most inane things and still manage to make them sound like the most interesting things in the world. Just the half hour in the diner and he’d managed to cover World War II, lizards, and the element Tungsten. Seth wouldn’t have been surprised to see someone start up a ‘Cult of Dean’ somewhere in South America run purely on his charismatic drive.

Whether in the middle of a fight or a conversation, Dean drew people in. It was what he did with them after that Seth was worried about.

“Need some more coffee, sweetie?” the waitress said, appearing at Seth’s side and setting a hand on the back of the booth where they were seated. Seth jumped a little at the noise, but offered her a sleepy smile, shaking his head no.

“What about us?” Dean protested. “Why is he the only sweetie? Then what the fuck are we?”

“I’ll give you caffeine over my dead old body, Ambrose, Lord help us all,” she chided, unable to hide a smile at Dean’s childish antics. “What about you, Rome? You need anything, honey?”

“I’m all good here,” Roman said, corners of his mouth almost turning into a smile of his own.

“I want pie!” Dean demanded. “And I won’t be moved until I’ve eaten it. No point in arguing, best to bring me the pie immediately.”

The older woman rolled her eyes but seemed to comply, moving behind the counter running the length of the building to pull a few slices of something from one of the pies displayed on its top. Additionally, she retreated into the kitchen before returning with two tall glasses of milk, setting one down in front of Dean hard enough to slosh over the rim of the glass and the other in front of a surprised Seth. “On the house for you, sweetie,” she said, retrieving the two plates of what Seth could now tell was apple pie and placing them in front of Seth and Dean. “Not you, Dean. You pay.”

“See if I ever come here again,” Dean muttered, grudgingly stabbing into the pastry with his fork and shoving a big piece into his mouth.

“He says that every time,” the waitress whispered to Seth conspiratorially, causing him to snort.

As she left, Seth looked towards Roman and his lack of pie. “You aren’t going to have any, Roman?” Seth asked, for some reason feeling guilty at Roman’s lack. He had always felt awkward eating if not everyone was.

“He doesn’t need any fuckin’ pie, he already has nine million of ‘em at home,” Dean said, spraying the counter with crumbs as he spoke.

Seth grimaced at the mess and looked at Roman curiously, cutting a tentative bite out of his piece with his fork.

“He runs a bakery,” Dean added, chugging the glass all at once and wiping his hand across his mouth.

“I do not _run a bakery_ ,” Roman said. “I _manage_ a chain of cafes.” He sounded offended, proud, and embarrassed all at the same time.

It wasn’t something Seth could picture the large man doing, but he probably looked striking in a suit. Was his job why he seemed so eternally frustrated? Seth imagined you’d need to have a good temper to be able to deal with problems all day.

“What about you, Dean?” Seth asked, even before he realized he was asking it.

“Moi?” Dean said, putting a hand to his chest. “I work at a gym.”

“He runs a gym,” Roman corrected, elbowing Dean in the side. “And a junkyard.” Seth could have sworn he saw Roman’s mouth mutter something about the trash being where Dean belonged, but as there was no actual noise, he wasn’t going to bring it up.   

“Hmm,” Seth said, finally taking a bite of the pie. It was pretty good pie. It made him miss his mother’s cooking. He’d had the idea that Dean was a mechanic or something, with the way he’d fixed up his bike.

“And?” Dean prodded, bouncing in his seat. “How about you, _sweetie_?” he pestered, tapping his fork against his plate.

“Oh,” Seth said, cheeks reddening. “I just, you know, work part time. And study.”

“Study, study, study _what_? Work where?” Dean asked, lacing his fingers together and bringing them under his chin, icy gaze focused completely on Seth, who couldn’t bring himself to eat anymore. “Tell Dean and Rome all about it.”

“Psychology,” Seth muttered, “and a…a few other things.” He took sip of the milk to ease the words in his throat. “And I work at a bar a few blocks from campus.”

Dean’s eyes burned. “Psychology, huh? Out to mind fuck people, Seth? Bet all the ladies were impressed by the face I gave you,” he grinned, eyes roaming over Seth’s face to examine the still-prominent yellowing remnants of their fight.

“Not so much,” Seth shrugged. “People in _real_ life tend to be freaked out by that kind of thing. Everyone thinks it was an accident, though, that someone flipped my bike and sent me into guard rails.”

“Excellent story,” Dean nodded. “I’da gone with bear attack, myself, but I guess you gotta’ keep up appearances more than we do. We ain’t got no one to lie to.”

“I really have to ask,” Seth sighed. “Not that I don’t know how inherently awesome I am, but why did you invite me to come with you? Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with you guys, but…I can’t see why you’d want to hang out with me.”

“Aww, _sweetie_ ,” Dean crooned, and Seth grimaced at the name. “We can’t just want to be friends with the new guy?”

“I guess you could,” Seth agreed, “but you don’t seem like the type of guy to do anything without some kind of motive, even if I don’t know what it is.”

“Putting that psychology to use, huh?” Dean said, slouching in his seat.

“That’s not how it works,” Seth sighed.

“Dean,” Roman said, giving him a significant look that Seth couldn’t quite decipher.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said. “Let’s just say, something’s rotten in Denmark.”

Seth blinked. Because of course Dean would read Shakespeare.

“If you want something from me, you’re going to have to be more specific. You both know I can’t do anything with implications, I need facts.” Seth was getting tired of everyone beating around the bush.

“We’re trying to get to you before _they_ get to you,” Dean said. “And don’t ask who _they_ is because, fuck, even Rome and I don’t know everything. But we do know enough to know that they’re bad news.” He paused, pushing back the hair from his forehead. “They don’t approach everyone, they look for specific people who can do things for them.”

“Okay…” Seth said, nodding. “And you think they’d target me? But why, I’m just a student.”

“That, unfortunately, makes you a perfect target,” Roman said wryly. “It means they can turn you into something because you haven’t picked sides yet.”

“What kind of stuff are we talking about, here?” Seth asked.

“Corporate stuff, like with Wade,” Dean said, counting on his fingers, “arson, dealing, theft, human trafficking, racketeering.” He leaned forward over the table. “The people that are recruited to the club are there because they want to fight, sure, but in the time me and Rome have been there, things have changed. It’s not about the fight anymore, it’s about what goes on behind the scenes.”

“Does this have anything to do with what you were telling me by the ring? About people who mess with new guys?”

“No,” Roman said. “This and that are…different. We’d never bring this up where other people could overhear.”

“And so what, exactly, are you asking me? You want me to not join them?”

“On the contrary,” Dean grinned. “If they approach you, we want you to join.”

“We want to take them down from the inside,” Roman said, crushing a napkin in his fist. “We want to get back what we used to have. They’d never trust me and Dean, but they might trust you.”

“But…” Seth said, swallowing. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It will be,” Dean said. “But in return for helping us out, we’ll teach you. We’ll teach you how to fight. And we’ll have your back.”

“Look,” Seth said, standing. “I appreciate that you were willing to trust me with this, but…” he paused, looking between them, “it’s not my responsibility to fix a whole underground fight club. I…I just got here. I have a life, even if it’s not a very impressive one. And I just…I don’t know if I’m willing to risk my life for this.” He grabbing his jacket and bundled it in his hands. “I won’t tell anyone about this, you don’t have to worry. I’m sorry.”

“Seth,” Dean said as Seth turned to leave. “You have my number.”

“Watch your back,” Roman said, but it sounded much more like a warning than a threat.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said again, ducking his head as he made for the door, little bell on top jingling behind him. What the fuck. He’d just wanted to fight, not be dragged into something this crazy. The whole thing was insane. He didn’t want anything to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you buying what I'm selling?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rough night.  
> Unlikely knights.

Seth sighed, wiping the bar clean of peanut skins and spilled beer for the fifth time in an hour and a half. He only worked three nights a week, and he didn’t mind the work, but busy nights were the worst.

Usually he could keep his homework behind the bar and work on it in between crowds, but they were swamped, waves of businessmen in suits and college students going out for the night commanding all of his and the owner’s attention. The two of them normally worked like a well-oiled machine, but they were barely keeping up.

“Must be because tomorrow’s a federal holiday,” Seth said tiredly, filling a cold glass from one of the many beers they carried on tap and slamming it down in front of an already-buzzed accountant-looking type. “Nobody has school or work, so they’re all getting wasted on a Tuesday night.”

“Hell, at least we’re getting great tips, kid,” Axel laughed heartily, slapping Seth on the back and stuffing a twenty into Seth’s jean pocket. “You gonna’ be okay on your homework?”

“Yeah,” Seth smirked back, filling another glass, “luckily I’m practically a genius compared to most of the people in my classes, so I’m not so worried about that.”

“And he’s humble, too!” Axel announced, moving to the other end of the bar to settle the tab of a group of sorority sisters, obvious even despite their lack of letters.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seth spotted another person enter the crowded floor and held back a mental sigh as the new customer approached the bar, the man squeezing between a flirting couple who glared at him before moving further down. “What can I get for you?” Seth asked, throwing the bar towel over his shoulder.

“Do I know you?” the man asked, almost haughty in the way he narrowed his eyes at Seth’s face.

Seth looked at him. Tall, dark hair that curled as it fell to the bottom of his neck, thick beard that met a mustache over his lips, brown eyes, light tan. “I don’t think so, man,” Seth said, shaking his head. “Did you want something to drink?”

“No, I am absolutely sure that I’ve seen you before,” the man said, lips curling into a smirk. “Perhaps…at Friday night book club?”

Seth blanched, looking to the side to make sure Axel was still occupied. “Hey, leave book club at book club!” Seth hissed.

“But I do so enjoy discussing great works of literature!” the man pressed. “Tell me,” he added, “have you read anything profound lately?”

“Yeah, the sign over the door that says we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone,” Seth ground out, turning away from the man as someone dropped their empty glasses back at the bar. Seth nodded his head in thanks and dumped them in the gray plastic glass bin under the bar to wash later.

“Oh, don’t be coy,” the man said, catching Seth’s bicep as he tried to pass. “Ever since I saw you with Dean, I was hoping they’d put us in the same reading group,” he brushed his thumb under Seth’s sleeve to drag across his skin, sending a wave of goosebumps down Seth’s neck. Seth jerked his arm, but the man held firm, holding the advantage of forty pounds and three inches.

“Are you kidding me?” Seth asked incredulously. “Look where we are right now. If you want to fight me, do it in the ring. Right now? You need to fuck off, because I’ve got work to do.”

“Have we devolved to profanity, now? How disappointing,” the man sighed. “It seems as though Dean has infected you with his philistine habits. I should reprogram that young mind of yours. Show it the enlightened Damien way.” He used his free hand to gesture wildly at himself.

“Hey!” Axel called, stomping over to them. “Let him go!”

‘Damien’ turned and eyed Axel’s broad form with distaste. “I dare say your knight in shining armor is a tad disappointing.” With a push backwards, he released Seth’s arm and smiled down his nose at him. “Until Friday.”

“Yeah, you better run!” Axel called after him. He looked at Seth, who was rubbing his arm where Damien’s fingers had dug in. “You know that guy?”

“Not really,” Seth shrugged, ignoring Axel’s side-eye. A thought hitting him, he pulled out his phone and typed a message to the number labelled “Deano” in his contacts list that hadn’t been there two and a half weeks ago. _Should I b worried abt ‘Damien’?_ After hesitating a moment, he pressed send and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

They seemed to have hit the peak of the night, fewer and fewer people stopping by as the crowd inside dwindled, the clock hands inching closer to 2:00 A.M. Seth felt sweaty and sticky, too much beer having sloshed onto his clothes in the process of serving and recovering glasses. Axel waved him off doing the dishes, practically pushing him out the door and stuffing more than his share of tips into Seth’s hands. “Get some rest,” Axel said. “Tonight was crazy, and you have class tomorrow. I think I can handle the dishes for a night.”

“Who am I, a mere employee, to argue?” Seth grinned, walking to his bike as Axel flipped him off and headed back inside. He glanced down at himself, frowning.  

Of course he hadn’t been drinking, but he definitely _smelled_ like he had. If he were to get pulled over, he’d be in serious trouble. Sighing, he nudged his kickstand up and grabbed the handlebars. It was only a few blocks to campus, so he could make it walking.

After a few trudging minutes of pushing his bike, he felt his phone start to vibrate, and it must have been a call rather than a text because it was vibrating a third time as he pulled it loose. “Hello?” Seth asked, squashing the phone between his ear and neck as he continued to push his bike.

“Seth, where are you?”

“Dean?” Seth wondered. He’d been expecting a text back, if anything, not a call.

“Answer the question!”

“I’m just getting off work,” Seth sighed, pausing his walk to readjust the phone. “Is this about—“

Something blunt smashed into the back of his head, sending him to his hands and knees as his bike tottered and crashed on its side. He heard his phone skitter away, but he couldn’t tell what direction. His head felt dazed, like he couldn’t operate his limbs correctly, the realest thing in the moment being the gravel digging into his palms.

“ _You_ think you can disrespect _me_?” his attacker hissed behind him, and before Seth could even register the movement, there was a booted foot digging into his ribs, sending him onto his back.

“At least I don’t have to attack people from behind to win a fight,” Seth choked, crying out as he was kicked a few more times, curling as best he could to minimize the damage. This wasn’t the exhilarating pain that came with being able to fight for dominance, this was the terrifying pain of not being in control. He felt the warmth of blood seeping out of the corners of his mouth from biting his lip and tongue in an effort to control his breathing.

When his attacker, who he now recognized as the man from the bar, seemed to grow tired of kicking his midsection, Seth felt a large hand curling its fingers in his hair, jerking him upwards and forcing him to stand or have fistfuls of hair ripped out. The pulling of his hair against his scalp only amplified the pain from the blow to the back of his head, and both breathing and thinking were becoming agonizing in themselves.

He was pushed forward as Damien released his hold, falling face first onto the asphalt, skinning his knees, palms, and left cheek against the rough street. Seth was afraid. He couldn’t control his own body, everything hurt, and he had no idea if Damien just wanted to beat him up or potentially murder him out in the open.

He felt a pressure against his lower back, and he realized that Damien had _sat_ on top of him. He tried to push his arms up and roll over, but the weight was too heavy and his limbs too disconnected. “You should work on being more polite to your customers,” Damien said conversationally. “That’s just good business sense, young man.”

“Fuck you,” Seth hissed, still trying to get his arms to cooperate with his brain.

“Really, I’m doing you a favor,” Damien said, grabbing a handful of Seth’s hair again and pulling backwards, forcing Seth’s head back at an unnatural angle, the skin of his neck pulled tight over his Adam’s apple. “If I don’t teach you, then how will you learn to choose your words more carefully?”

Seth realized with a sharp spike of fear that Damien was going to smash his head into the asphalt. Looking at his behavior, he probably wouldn’t stop with just once, either.  With a surge of fear-fueled adrenaline, Seth pulled his head away from Damien’s hands, some of his hair ripping in the process, only to slam it back again, the sore back of his skull cracking into Damien’s face.

As the man cried out in surprise and pain, Seth rolled over, unbalancing Damien and sending him to the ground. Shakily, Seth crawled to his hands and knees, using a last desperate push to get back on his feet, stumbling as the blood rushed in his head. He turned, breathing heavily, only to find that Damien was on his feet as well, blood pouring from his nose.

“My lesson will need to be amended,” Damien growled, swiping his arm under his nose and stalking forward.

“You stay the fuck away from me!” Seth said, voice wavering. If he were to get caught again, he knew that he’d lose. He was a mess, his vision was blurry, and his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Hey,” they both heard someone say, and Damien whipped his head around only to be grabbed around the neck and his head brought straight to the ground, knocking him out cold.

“Wha…” Seth stared, eyes widening as Randy stepped into the glow of the street light, eyes glimmering. “How are you here?”

“You’re welcome,” Randy rolled his eyes, voice raspy and deep. He looked down at Damien’s motionless body and smiled, and Seth somehow didn’t feel any safer than he had five minutes before. “You really fucked up this time, Damien,” he muttered, grin widening.

As it didn’t look like Randy was going to attack him any time soon, Seth put a dirty hand to his sweaty forehead, trying to alleviate the pressure from the massive headache that was building between his temples. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking around the ground for his cell phone. The street light wasn’t much to go by, and he took a few steps, trying to get his vision to focus as he combed the area.

“Looking for this?” Randy said from right behind him, and Seth jumped, spinning around fast enough to make him even dizzier. How could someone that big move so quietly? “You got thirteen missed calls from ‘Deano.’ He your boyfriend, or something?”

Randy didn’t seem to realize that Deano and Dean were the same person. “My roommate,” Seth said, unnerved that his words slurred together. “I gotta’ get back to campus.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Randy said, his tone brooking no argument.

“What about…” Seth trailed off, looking over at Damien’s body.

“He’ll be taken care of,” Randy said.

Seth wasn’t going to ask what that meant.

He brought his phone screen close to his face so he could read it and typed out a message to Dean. _I’m ok. Explain tmrw. Don’t call._

Seth retrieved his bike and began rolling it again, this time leaning heavily on the handlebars for support. “Looks like you owe me one, kid,” Randy said, grabbing his elbow to keep him from falling over.

Seth frowned. He’d think about the implications of that tomorrow. At the moment, his head hurt too much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelioration.  
> Confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how about that cruel and unusual PPV

Seth held his helmet gingerly under his arm as he stepped into the gym, the frigid air conditioning slapping him in the face as his eyes blinked to adjust to the hanging fluorescent lights. It wasn’t state of the art, by any means, but it wasn’t as shabby as some subconscious part of his mind had pictured, either.

The walls were painted in alternating blocks of bright red and blue, and while the building itself wasn’t large, from where he stood he could make out a few separate areas for cardio and strength training, as well as the corner post of a ring.

There were turnstiles in the entryway next to a long desk, behind which a few employees typed on computers and answered phones. Seth watched as someone who’d walked in before him handed a card to an employee at the desk, who swiped it into a card reader attached to one of the computers, unlocking one of the turnstiles to let the man through.  

Seth wasn’t sure what he should do. He obviously didn’t have a gym membership or I.D., and he wasn’t crazy about even agreeing to meet in the first place, not after he’d rejected Dean and Roman’s plan. After all, this was their turf, not his.

And the night before had him slightly more paranoid and on edge than usual.  

“Can I help you?” a woman at the front desk asked, clearly noticing his uncertainty.

“Yeah, I…I’m supposed to meet Dea—“

“Seth!” Dean said, jumping the leftmost turnstile and reaching out as if to touch Seth’s abraded cheek. He drew back at Seth’s visible discomfort, letting his hand fall to his side. “We’ll talk in the back.” He meandered to the desk and spoke with the woman who’d questioned Seth, though Seth couldn’t hear what they were saying.

After a few moments, Dean returned to Seth’s side and two turnstiles unlocked. “After you,” Dean said, swiping his arm through the air in a grand gesture. Crossing the workout area threshold, Seth followed Dean through several areas of different exercise equipment until they reached a door marked “Trainers and Staff Only,” which Dean unlocked with a set of keys produced from his back pocket.

“So this place is really yours, huh?” Seth said, impressed by what he’d seen so far.

“Well, I do have help, but my name’s on the business license,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly, pushing the door open and leading Seth inside.

The room was small, but not cluttered, the tight space just enough for a small table, two chairs, a counter loaded with first aid supplies that ran the length of one wall, and a small refrigerator. Dean turned one chair backwards to sit on, his legs extending around the seat back, and looked expectantly at Seth, watching carefully as Seth winced when sitting in the other chair.  

“Damien does that,” Dean said suddenly. “He goes after people who he thinks are weak, but he doesn’t play fair. I’m assuming that’s what happened to you last night. Fuckin’ idiot confuses fantasy and reality.”

Seth grimaced, bringing his right arm up to wrap around his middle, where there were already layers of bandage pulled tight to support his rib cage. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he was limited as far as fixing his own injuries was concerned, and he doubted he’d get pneumonia from a few days of compression. “Hit me in the head,” Seth muttered, letting out an unamused, bitter laugh. “Funny enough, I don’t even have a bump from that. Kicked the shit out of me, though. Asshole.”

“But the fact that you’re even able to walk around right now means that something else happened, didn’t it,” Dean pressed.

“I…” Seth sighed. “He was about to crush my fuckin’ head, but then…Randy showed up? I…I can’t explain it.”

“If I wasn’t sure before, I am now,” Dean nodded. “They want you, Seth.” He stood quickly from his seat and pulled one of several first aid kits from the counter to set on the table. Reaching behind him, he pulled a pre-made ice pack from the fridge and tossed it next to the first aid kit. “Let me look at your ribs.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Seth shook his head. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“Take. Your fuckin’. Shirt. Off,” Dean menaced. “I’m not gonna’ have you fuckin’ die in the back of _my_ gym because you can’t take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself just fuckin’ fine!” Seth protested, standing and making for the door.

Rolling his eyes, Dean reached out his arm and stuck his index finger into Seth’s left side. Seth, not expecting the contact or the surge of pain that came with it, cried out and dropped his helmet, which was sent clattering to the floor.

“What the fuck?!” Seth hissed as Dean led him back to the chair and pushed his shoulders down, forcing him to sit. “That’s fucking cheating!”

Dean shrugged, pulling at the material of Seth’s shirt. “Off.”

“You’re an asshole,” Seth muttered, letting out a gasp and wincing as Dean slowly peeled his shirt from his chest.

“You’re twenty one years old,” Dean said, shaking his head as he began to unwrap the bandages from Seth’s chest and abdomen. “How about you let old Dean treat you like your age for fuckin’ once.”

“What, like you’re ancient?” Seth said breathily, frowning as Dean dumped his bandages on the floor. “Hey—“

“Shut up,” Dean grunted, eyes narrowing as he reached out to trace the deep red and purple bruising covering most of Seth’s torso.

“Nothing’s broken. Somehow,” Seth said, inhaling sharply at the press of Dean’s fingers. “Look, I’m sure you’ve had worse—“

“That was in _fair_ fights,” Dean pointed out. “Well, maybe not so much for the dudes I took out.”

“Yeah, I get it, you’re great, whatever,” Seth said, voice pained. “Could you _stop_ touching? And man, it hurt worse when _you_ beat the shit outta’ me.”

Dean frowned and shoved the ice pack at Seth’s chest, stealing the air from his lungs at the cold jolt.

“I already did this,” Seth complained, pushing the ice away.

“Well, you’re gonna’ fuckin’ do it again,” Dean said, pulling another ice pack from the fridge and setting it next to the first. “Tell me what Randy said to you.”

“Nothing,” Seth said. “He just…he showed up, took Damien out, and then walked me back to campus.”

“And he said fucking nothing to you that entire time?” Dean asked incredulously.

“He…” Seth sighed, thinking. “He said that Damien had fucked up this time. And he…” Seth readjusted the ice packs as they began to burn, “…when we got to campus, he told me that…that I was lucky I had someone watching my back. I assumed he was talking about _himself_ at the time, but I guess…maybe he meant someone else?”

“I really don’t know if you got the worst luck or the best,” Dean said wryly, flipping open the latches on the first aid kit.

“Definitely the worst,” Seth said. “I met _you_ , didn’t I.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Dean said, pulling out a fresh roll of bandages and a white tube. Uncapping the tube, he squeezed out a huge amount of cream into his palm and turned to Seth, slathering it over Seth’s skin.

“What the fuck—“ Seth jumped.

“It’s bruise cream, you fuckin’ loser,” Dean huffed, failing to hide a grin. “College students probably don’t have it lyin’ around their dorms, do they?”

“Your bedside manner is the worst,” Seth grimaced as Dean’s fingers none-too-gently massaged the bruise cream into his stomach and sides.

A knock at the door startled both of them. Glancing at Seth, Dean wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans before opening it. “What took you so long, man?”

“Some of us work for a living, Ambrose,” Roman replied. He was dressed in slacks and a button-down, his hair pulled up at his neck and healthy-shiny rather than its usual greasy state. Noticing Seth’s state of undress, the ice packs, and the bruises, he let out his trademark growl of discontent. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I tripped,” Seth deadpanned, ducking a slap to the head from Dean. “Fuck, man, I’m injured, here!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Damien’s!”

“Oh. Right.” Dean scratched at his neck.

“Damien did this?” Roman repeated. “What, was he spouting shit about enlightenment to you, too? He tried it with me when I first joined, only he didn’t figure on me being able to see his reflection in my car window when he tried to bash my head in with a baseball bat.”

“Randy was the one who stopped Damien from doing worse,” Dean said, giving Roman a knowing look.

“Shit,” Roman sighed. “So they really are going after him.”

“Look, Randy didn’t say shit to me about joining your secret evil club, okay? He just KO’d Damien and then walked me back to campus. It’s probably nothing. He was probably just at the right place at the right time. It doesn’t mean I’m a target.”

“We’ve been over this, kid,” Dean huffed, “you’re not that lucky.”

Seth groaned as he readjusted his position in the chair, one of the ice packs falling to the ground. “Everything feels numb now, can we finish up here?”

“Not until we know what you’re gonna’ do,” Roman said. “Are you going to join with them, if they approach you? Not that they’d give you much choice.”

“What would happen? If I did say no,” Seth wondered.

“They might kick you out, hurt you, worse…or they may do nothing. It ain’t worth risking your life for. Maybe you should quit, kid. Get out while you can. This whole thing was a bad idea, Rome,” Dean growled.

“What do you mean, this whole thing?” Seth demanded.

Roman looked sharply at Dean, who shrugged. “We asked Cody to be on the lookout for…someone like you,” Roman said carefully. “We knew they were hunting, and we needed…bait.”

“You…” Seth said incredulously. “This whole thing was what, just some massive attempt at manipulation?”   

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that you’d actually be able to throw a punch,” Dean said.

“You _assholes_ ,” Seth said, standing up from the chair and hunching over as his skin pulled. “My fuckin’ _life_ is in danger because you brought me into this, and you can stand there making stupid jokes?!” He reached for his shirt, only to have Dean’s hand encircle his wrist. “Let go!”

“Seth,” Dean sighed, “It wasn’t just about that, okay? At first it was…we were going to use you to get to them, and we didn’t think or care about the danger we were going to put you in.” He paused, using his free hand to rub at his forehead. “But then we fought in the ring, and I…I liked you. I do like you, kid. I don’t want you to get hurt. I feel fuckin’… _guilty_.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help me, does it?” Seth said, pulling at his arm.

“You would have joined anyway!” Dean said, frustrated. “I could see it in your eyes. You would have found a way! At least this way you have us to back you up!”

“You’re in this situation whether you want to be or not,” Roman said. “But you’re much better off with us than against us.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you both,” Seth said, grimacing as his abdomen pulsed with pain.

“If you let us teach you, we can be unstoppable,” Dean said, uncharacteristically serious. “Roman and I are strong. We can make you just as strong. We can be invincible. No one will ever mess with you again. No one will touch you again.”

“How can I trust anything you say when you just told me you were trying to—“

“We’ll never lie to you again,” Dean interrupted. “It’s all out in the open, so we don’t need to. Just…just give us a chance to prove to you that we can be the best fuckin’ thing anyone’s ever seen. You saw how well we worked together in the ring. You saw how good we could be.” He sighed, releasing Seth’s wrist. “Or you can quit, and you’ll never see us again. It’s your decision.”

Seth looked between both of them, breathing harsh as he weighed Dean’s words. “I should tell you to go fuck yourself,” Seth said, shaking his head. “But I think I’m in too deep to be able to turn you down. And you both fuckin’ know that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens, until it does. But does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who've commented, hopefully I can keep you interested.

Seth stared at the test paper in front of him, uncomprehending.

He’d never received less than an A on anything in his life, so the B+ circled in red at the top of his Economics exam was painful, to say the least. He’d been so stressed out and in so much physical pain that he hadn’t dedicated enough time to his school work.

Sighing, he stuffed the paper into his backpack and left the classroom, heading for his dorm to get ready for the club. He could always bring his grade up, but getting a replacement _life_ would be a little more difficult. He knew he wasn’t ready to fight, his ribs screaming in pain with every motion, but he also knew that he had to show or risk someone tracking him down.

He wrapped his ribs in several layers of thick cotton bandage, hoping they’d provide at least marginal protection against fists, but highly doubting it.

“You haven’t had any near death experiences lately, have you?” his roommate, Alex, said, alternating between glancing at his laptop screen and staring at Seth from his position laying on his bed. “With all the times you’ve come back lookin’ like hell, I’d think there was some weird Final Destination shit going on.”

Seth turned and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Alex a look. “You’re thinking about how you’d automatically get As if I died, aren’t you,” Seth rolled his eyes, thinking of the university policy that granted good grades in the case of traumatized roommates. “Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but I don’t plan on kicking the bucket any time soon.”

“Well no one _plans_ on it,” Alex grumbled, settling headphones over his ears.

Seth looked at himself in their mirror. Somehow, he’d pictured himself only getting bigger and stronger, but he looked…exhausted. Thin. Sick. Definitely not what he thought he’d look like after only a few fights. Roman and Dean always looked…He shook his head, reaching behind it to put his hair up. He wouldn’t waste time thinking about those assholes. He devoured a protein bar quickly, washing it down with a bottle of water, then looked at his reflection again. Was he not building muscle because he wasn’t eating enough?

Shoving his phone into a zippered pants pocket and grabbing his helmet from the desk next to his bed, Seth gave one last nod to his roommate before setting out, feeling the most uneasy he’d been, even over the first day jitters he’d experienced a few week previous.

Parking behind what he’d come to think of as “his dumpster,” on approach Seth immediately noticed that things were quieter than usual. The crowd had lost its boisterous bloodthirsty-ness in favor of something cold and nervous. It was like a pack of wild animals had just discovered there was something higher up on the food chain.

He didn’t spot any friendlies as he made his way to the WBoD, but he did breathe a sigh of relief as he noted the absence of his name. Sad to say, it was the highlight of his week.

“Why do you think he’s back?” Seth heard someone ask behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to identify a man on the smaller side, but still rippling with muscle, speaking to someone who was closer to Randy’s height. “I kinda’ figured he’d washed his hands of us now that he’s gone legit. Well, kinda’ legit.”

“I do not know,” the taller man answered him, Seth unable to place his European accent. “Whatever the reason, it is best that we avoid becoming part of it.”

“You got it, big man,” the smaller man nodded.

“All of you afraid of the big bad wolf, aye?” Seth heard someone to his left scoff, and he wasn’t surprised to find the crookedly handsome features of Wade twisted into their usual display of scorn. “How about you all bloody mind your own fights and stop wasting everyone’s time?”

“Hey, Seth!” Sami greeted, making Seth jump at the hand that clamped over his shoulder. “Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you. What’s up with the mood tonight?”

Seth offered Sami a half smile. “I don’t know, everyone keeps saying that someone’s back? Did someone leave?”

Sami paused, rubbing at his chin. “They couldn’t mean…” glancing around, he turned to the smaller man Seth had eavesdropped on. “Hey, Tyson, is H back?”

“That’s the word on the street,” Tyson confirmed, stretching his arms over his head. “When’s your arm better, man? We got a highflying rematch to settle.”

“Just one more week,” Sami laughed, expression darkening slightly as he turned back to Seth. “Listen, I have to…I have some business to take care of. I’ll see you later.”

Before Seth could reply, Sami was gone.

He slunk back to the periphery as the fights began, unable to concentrate as the pain continued to clinch in his abdomen. He’d be the first one to admit that he wallowed too much in his own misery, but damn it, it _hurt_.

“You’re sweating, kid,” Dean pointed out, who had somehow conjured himself from out of nowhere, though more than likely from behind one of the many cement pillars. “Not been taking your Flinstones vitamins?”

“Fuck off,” Seth muttered, eyes flicking to the ring to watch Tyson wrap his legs around the neck of his opponent and take him to the ground. Seth wondered if he would ever be able to do something like that.

“You look like you’re gonna’ fall over.”

“Then I’ll fuckin’ fall over,” Seth said, turning away from Dean.

“You’re mad,” Dean said. “I get that.”

“No shit,” Seth rolled his eyes, even though Dean couldn’t see him do it.

“But I’m…we’re gonna’ be here, whether you want us to be, or not. Asshole,” he added, almost like an afterthought.

“Congratulations,” Seth huffed, watching as Tyson high-fived the taller man, having won his bout with much more ease than Seth had been expecting. How did Tyson get so high up when he was so much lower to the ground?

“Gymnast training,” Dean said in answer.

Had Seth said that out loud?

“Do you not realize that you’re talking?” Dean asked, voice sounding like he was…concerned.

Seth twitched as Dean laid a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. “Fuckin’ hell, Dean!” Seth complained, wincing as Dean slapped the back of his hand none-too-gently against Seth’s cheek.

“You’re like a million degrees, you idiot,” Dean said. “How’d you even drive here without passing out?”

“It’s just my immune system on overdrive,” Seth said, pushing Dean’s hand away. “If I can manage to get through next week without being ambushed, I’ll be fine.”

“Tall order,” Dean said wryly. “Don’t you got a girlfriend or somethin’ to take care of you?”

“Do _you_?” Seth replied, sick of the questions. “Geeze, I can’t believe I thought you were cool, you’re worse than my mother.”

Dean grinned. “You think I’m _cool_ , huh?”

“Who’s H?” Seth asked suddenly, glimpsing Sami across the ring deep in conversation with a much shorter man. “Why’s everybody freaked out?”

“He holds grudges and never forgets,” Dean said, tugging at Seth’s elbow, trying to lead him away. “He has a shit ton of influence. He hates my guts. Pretty sure he hates everyone, though.”

“Where’s Roman?” Seth asked tiredly.

“Why, you playin’ favorites now?” Dean laughed.

“He talks less,” Seth said sourly.

“And yet says so much more,” Dean said, intoning his voice to sound mysterious. “Ouch!” Dean complained, looking behind him at Roman who stood there with a raised fist.

“I have a fight tonight,” Roman said. “What are you two doing?”

“Can I borrow your truck, Rome? I need to take the kid and his bike back to his dorm.”

“Hey, I’m fine staying here!” Seth hissed. “I am not your responsibility!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Roman asked, like Seth wasn’t standing right in front of him.

“Feels like he’s about to spontaneously combust,” Dean answered.

Roman sighed but dug his keys from his pocket, throwing them at Dean’s chest. “You best bring it back in one piece, Ambrose, or I’m putting your body through a trash compactor.”

“I love it when you talk so romantic, Rome,” Dean said, fluttering his eyelashes and jumping out of the way of Roman’s fist as it aimed at his shoulder. Shaking his head in amusement, Dean latched onto Seth’s arm and forcibly pulled him out of the warehouse.

Seth complained the entire way, but there wasn’t much he could do against Dean’s stubbornness or superior muscle mass. He really needed to hit the gym more often.

Dean led him a block away to where a giant of a truck was badly parked next to a curb. “Give me your keys,” Dean said. “I’ll get your bike. It’s in the same place as before?” After Seth begrudgingly handed them over, Dean paused to give him a stern look. “Stay,” he commanded.

Seth flipped him off.

Sighing, Seth leaned against the driver’s side door of Roman’s truck, hating to admit that the coolness of the metal against his skin felt great. He pulled out his phone to check his email, and when he moved to return it to his pocket, he spotted something strange at the mouth of an alley a few yards away.

A glowing ball of light swung back and forth hypnotically, and Seth narrowed his eyes attempting to see into the darkness around it. “Someone…there?” Seth said hesitantly.

“Now, I wonder…” a disembodied voice said, “…why a boy like you would be out here all alone.”

“I’m not,” Seth said, too done to even feel afraid or weirded out. His system had experienced so many shocks lately that it had become inoculated against these encounters. “You’re here,” he pointed out, turning to let his cheek rest against the door to cover up sending an SOS text to Dean.  

“Why, yes I am,” the voice said, and finally Seth could make out the outline of a broad body behind the light, which he could see was a flashlight being twirled by hairy hands. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a scared little rabbit, boy?”

“Not anyone who’s had the chance to tell me twice,” Seth ground out, turning again to press his back into the door.

“I like your fire,” the man said. “I would so enjoy smotherin’ it.”

Seth blinked, and the light was flicked off.

“Seth!” Dean yelled, coming into view on Seth’s bike as he cut to a stop in front of Roman’s truck. “What the fuck? You can’t just send me something like that! What the fuck happened? I was gone for a whole two minutes!”

“There was a light,” Seth sighed, letting his head fall against the truck.

“Right,” Dean said skeptically, pulling the truck bed door down and hoisting Seth’s bike onto the back. “Listen, how ‘bout you take a nice, long nap and then talk when you’re makin’ sense.”

 “Whatever,” Seth groaned, going around the truck to climb into the passenger seat. “I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

“I _believe_ you gave me a fuckin’ heart attack, you little shit,” Dean grumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat. “See if I fuckin’ come running next time.”

Seth felt his lips quirk as he leaned his head against the coolness of the window. “You know you fuckin’ will,” he muttered to himself, the roar of the engine somehow sending him straight to sleep, even over the soreness of his ribs and the heat burning in his cheeks.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seth 100% has the worst luck


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will anything ever happen?  
> Tune in next time.  
> Same bat time. Same bat channel.

“What the fuck, guys,” Seth groaned, frowning as Dean and Roman claimed two barstools in front of where Seth was setting out new baskets of nuts and straightening the tiny laminated drink menus. He wasn’t even going to ask how they’d figured out where he worked because one, he doubted they’d tell him and two, they were already fucking there, so it didn’t really matter.

“They grow up so fast,” Dean said, pretending to choke up and wiping a nonexistent tear from one eye. “Baby’s a bartender now!”

“Did you come to drink or to fuck with me?” Seth asked wryly, crossing his arms over his healing chest.

“You severely underestimate our capabilities if you think we can’t do both of those at once,” Dean grinned, leaning around Seth to eye the vodka bottles displayed behind the bar with interest. “What you feelin’, Rome?”

“Beer,” Roman said, attention wandering around the small bar. It wasn’t very impressive, but it was comfortable. They didn’t pretend to be a high class place, and they got more student patrons that way. They only served drinks and snacks, no cooked food, and they held the occasional themed trivia night when Axel felt like laughing at people in geeky costumes. Seth had enjoyed the work when he first started, but it had started to drag on him when he had to paint a fake smile on his face to get through every night.  

“You _do_ know that there’s more than one kind, don’t you?” Seth sighed. “You’re gonna’ have to be a little more specific.”

“What does the chef recommend?” Dean said loudly, picking up and brandishing a drink menu with a flourish. “Ooh, ‘Sex on the Beach’ sounds perfect for you, Rome.”

“Beer,” Roman growled again, swiping the menu from Dean’s hand and throwing it over the bar to land at Seth’s feet.

Seth rubbed at his forehead before pulling a glass mug from under the bar and filling it to the brim with chilled Blue Moon. Even though it was normally served that way, he felt like he was screwing with Roman by shoving an orange slice over the glass edge. “Enjoy. That’ll be $3.50.”

“What, no fight club friend discount?” Dean complained.

“That _is_ the discount,” Seth said. “Know what you want, Dean?”

“About a million dollars, cheese fries, one of those dinosaurs from Jurassic—“

“Dean,” Seth said.

“Jim for me, straight,” Dean smiled, not flinching when Seth slammed the shot glass down in front of him much harder than strictly necessary.

“Whiskey, huh?” Seth questioned, pouring a thumb for Dean. “Can you pay for this?”

“Just ‘cause I’m not wearing a fancy suit or watch don’t mean I can’t pay my way,” Dean said, eyebrow twitching. He threw the shot back. “Hit me.”

Seth shrugged, pouring him another. He figured Dean could handle his booze. He glanced over at Roman to find the man sipping at his beer, not the chugger that he’d pinned him as. Or maybe he was the designated driver.

“So what are you two up to tonight?” Seth wondered.

“Is that Seth talking or the bartender talking?” Dean asked suspiciously, tossing the second shot just as easily as the first. “You tryna’ weedle out some tips by making small talk?”

“Oh no, you’ve figured out my nefarious plan,” Seth deadpanned, moving down the bar to check on the few other customers there on a Monday night. After getting them their refills, Seth returned to find Dean waving his glass in the air.

“Fill ‘er up!” Dean demanded.

Seth sighed but complied, pouring another shot. He’d cut Dean off if he wanted any more after that. “I guess I just figured you two would have better things to do than come to a dive bar full of college students.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid. I happen to think you’re great company,” Dean said, resting his chin on top of his fist. “A little narcissistic and mildly irritating, but we can blame that on bad parenting.”

“ _You’re_ calling _me_ a narcissist?” Seth said incredulously. “Roman, how do you put up with this guy?”

“I’m an amazing conversationalist,” Dean said, stuffing a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“I didn’t ask you,” Seth groaned, “I asked Roman.”

“No comment,” Roman grunted, sipping his beer.

“I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” Seth said, looking between them, frown growing. “You’re doing that thing where you try and talk around the actual issue,” he looked pointedly at Dean. “I’m not an idiot, I can tell.”

Roman snorted. “He’s got you figured out already.”

Dean’s blue eyes narrowed fractionally, then returned to normal as he smiled at Seth. “What, we can’t just want to stop by and bother you?” He held out the shot glass.

Seth looked at him incredulously, anger simmering just under his skin. “Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered, running a hand through his loose hair. “Axel!” he shouted, and soon after his boss poked his head out of the small office built into the corner of the building. “Can you take over? I need some air.”

“Gotcha, kid,” Axel nodded, slipping behind the bar and glancing in askance at Dean and Roman. “You buds order somethin’?”

Seth ignored all of them and pushed outside, taking deep breaths of air to try and control his temper. So much for no more lying. They were completely full of shit.

“You’re mad,” Dean said, following him outside.

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Seth said, not turning around, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “So I lied. It just comes out, like breathing. I’da told you eventually, I swear, I just…” he paused. “Word’s out that Damien’s out of the hospital, and we just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t come straight here.”

Seth turned around. Damien had been in the hospital? It was almost a relief, considering the way Randy had implied he would be…well, dead. “Why’d you think you needed to lie about that? Kinda’ sounds like something I should know sooner rather than later.”

“Habit,” Dean shrugged one shoulder.

“How’d you know where I worked?” Seth challenged.

“You mentioned Axel when you were delirious on Friday,” Dean said, turning to point at the giant red sign on the building that practically screamed _Axelmania_. “I figured it out.”

“Okay,” Seth said slowly, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“We cool?” Dean asked, straightening the collar of his leather jacket.

Seth shrugged, walking past him to go back inside. “You a good tipper?”

Seth wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Roman truly laugh before, so when he walked in to Roman and Axel practically bent double from roaring, he was more than a little startled by the sight. “Huh,” Dean said, resting his elbow on Seth’s shoulder. “We may have to come here more often if it gets Señor Sourpants to loosen up.”

Seth let out an amused gust of air at the nickname, his eyes meeting Dean’s. An odd flicker lit Dean’s gaze before he looked away, continuing towards Roman and Axel.  

“And just what the fuck are you two laughing about without me?” Dean said in mock anger, setting his hands on his hips.

The rest of the night went better than Seth had expected. Dean got only mildly sloshed, Roman opened up a little, and Damien never showed. And despite Seth’s ribbing at Dean’s tipping practices, he found a twenty hidden under Dean and Roman’s receipt on the bar when he went to clean up their glasses after they’d left. Axel’s weird comments were what turned his mood bitter.

They invited Seth to come to Dean’s gym after his classes the next day, Dean sliding Seth a membership card and waving off his attempts to at least pay for part of it. “My gym, my rules,” Dean said, slapping a hand over Seth’s mouth. He had left it there for a moment, looking down his arm at Seth. “Is that stubble I feel?”

“Shut up,” Seth muttered, pushing the hand off. “I’m working on it.” He reached up to touch the light dusting of shadow across his chin. “You’re not allowed to make fun of the growing process when you wanted me to do it in the first place.”

“Me? Make fun? Never,” Dean said. “I oughta’ show you pictures of Roman when he was growing his beard out. It was all patchy and everything.”

“What pictures?” Roman said darkly, grabbing Dean by the front of his shirt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said innocently.

As Dean and Roman bickered, Seth felt the edge of the gym card in his pocket. Were they really going to be some kind of team? Would Dean and Roman help him learn how to be a better fighter? With things actually working out for once, it almost felt too good to be true.

And could he really trust them?

“Interesting dudes you got there, Seth,” Axel remarked, wiping out a glass with a bar rag. “Where’d you meet guys like them? Don’t look like the college type, if you get what I mean.”

“Umm,” Seth said, scrambling for a plausible lie. “I…I joined a…a CrossFit class, and they’re in it, and we just kinda’ hit it off.”

Axel whistled, nodding. “You do too much, kid, I don’t know how you even keep up with your work.”

“It’s been hard lately,” Seth admitted. “But I don’t like having nothing to do.” Maybe nothing would better than the something he ended up with, though.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…” Axel began, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“What is it?”

“Well, just…just watch out for yourself, okay? I get that they seem…cool. You know, guys’ guys. That type. But…you just watch out for yourself,” he repeated.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Seth asked, forehead scrunching in confusion.

“I’m not sayin’ that there’s anything wrong with you,” Axel sighed, “but you gotta’ look at where they are in their lives and where you are in yours. It doesn’t mean they don’t really wanna’ be your friends, but…keep an eye out for other reasons.”

“Axel, seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The way they look at you isn’t normal,” Axel said lowly. “This isn’t a gay or straight thing, okay? This is…they look at you like they’re hungry, like they’re starving, and you’re the only piece of food around. I’ve owned this place for ten years, seen the ways people act when they want something. They got that look.”

Seth was speechless. “Dude…” he finally breathed. “That’s beyond crazy. You been drinkin’ on the job?” he joked.

“I wish,” Axel offered a half smile, clapping Seth on the back. “I think you best see your friends off.”

Seth gave him a weird look before walking to where Dean and Roman were shoving each other like children. “I guess I’ll…see you tomorrow?” Seth posed it like a question, heart thumping painfully and stomach twisting. What the fuck? Why would Axel say something like that?

“Come prepared to have your ass handed to you,” Dean grinned, smile lighting up his face.

“Gimme’ another freebie and I’ll put you on yours,” Seth smiled back.

“If you can knock me down, I’ll show you Roman’s pictures,” Dean challenged.

“I’m gonna’ fuckin' murder you,” Roman growled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth's a bit of a masochist, which surprises no one.  
> Nothing happens.  
> Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not ready for tomorrow, and so I write.

Serendipity wasn’t a term that Seth thought he’d ever use in his life, but at the sight of the CrossFit flyer pinned to the bulletin board in his dorm, the idea grew more and more appealing. He obviously wasn’t going to get the muscle tone he wanted just by working on his own, so maybe his few hours in the university gym could be put to better use.

At the very least, he knew he’d need more work than just having Dean and Roman teach him how to throw a punch a few times a week, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—depend on them to have his back all the time. He needed to be able to hold his own, and he needed to be able to do it quickly.

His afternoon classes felt torturously long as his fingers kept hitting the lock button on his phone in order to check the time. In order to stay awake, he’d downed two energy drinks before each one, and even while his eyes were drooping from exhaustion, his heart was racing from the caffeine. Not his finest health moment, but a necessary evil. As soon as the clock hit 2:50 P.M., he was packing his things, shuffling from his seat, and jogging to his bike, wanting to get to Dean’s gym as soon as possible so he’d have enough time to work out there and then go to work at the bar at night.

Some part of his brain was telling him it was too much, but he’d learned to ignore that particular lobe.

He popped a few aspirin before swiping his new gym card at the turnstile, taking a few minutes to appreciate the available equipment before wandering back towards the ring, where Dean had told him to head when he arrived. Dean and Roman weren’t around, but there was a man with messy long hair and a beard, shoulder wrapped in bandages, watching on the outside as two men sparred within.

“Neville, watch your dang feet!” the man barked.

Seth didn’t say anything as he approached, eye drawn to the men performing all kinds of ridiculous stunts, one after another, as they used the ropes to gain leverage. Too bad fight club didn’t have any ropes, because Seth thought learning things like that would be fantastic.

“Can I help you?” the hairy man asked, finally noticing Seth standing behind him.

“I’m meeting Dean here,” Seth said, “at…some point.”

The man eyed him up and down. “You must be Seth. I’m Daniel Bryan. Get up there,” he pointed to the ring.

“Wh-what?” Seth stuttered, surprised. “I don’t think—“

“Dean’s busy, he asked me to look out for you when you came. Neville, you stay,” he commanded to the people in the ring. “Balor, take a break.” He turned back to Seth. “Get up there.”

Seth sighed, but did as commanded, pulling his hair up before climbing into the ring. The man named Neville looked a little younger and a lot shorter than he did, but he clearly had more experience, if his high-flying was anything to go by. His dark wavy hair was pulled up much like Seth’s, and he offered Seth a cheeky smile as he approached. “Doin’ alright, mate?” he greeted, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“I’ve had better days,” Seth sighed, looking in askance at Daniel.

“Put him through his paces,” Daniel ordered Neville. “I need to know what I have to work with.”

Neville nodded and jerked his head at Seth to move closer to the center. “Stretches first, don’t wanna’ pull something, aye?” he said, directing Seth as to which parts needed pulling and which needed loosening up. His ribs hurt, but he was getting used the pain welling up in the background, like static. “Now, before we start, what can ya’ do?”

Seth curled his arm and flexed his bicep. “That’s about it.”

Neville snorted and laughed. “A beginner? This’ll be a right treat.”

At least Seth didn’t suck as much as he thought he was going to. He was in great shape, he was flexible, and he was able to perform all of the basic jumps, rolls, and dodges that Neville directed him to. His dropkick wasn’t shabby, and he knew he could throw a person if he had to, but he also recognized how much further he needed to improve when he compared his own skill to that of Neville’s.

“Not bad at all,” Neville smiled, both of them sweating significantly. They’d been testing each other’s limits for half an hour, and Seth’s shirt was soaked.

“Finn!” Daniel called. “Your turn! Put some pressure on!”

Finn was clearly older than both Seth and Neville, his eyes narrowing in anticipation as he and Neville swapped out. Finn didn’t hold back nearly as much as Neville had, mercilessly slamming Seth against the mat again and again as Seth tried to get a good hold on him, but everything was too slick. Finally, out of sheer frustration, he reared his head back and butted Finn in the forehead.

Stunned, Finn stumbled back a few steps to clutch at his aching skill, but Seth pressed forward. Using his momentum, he swung his arm forward and sent it smashing into Finn’s chest, sending him tumbling over the ropes of the ring and onto the gym floor. Seth startled at the heavy clap that followed, looking around to see Dean’s mouth hanging open in an amused expression as he watched from the sidelines.

“Who knew you had it in you?” Dean grinned. “I’ll take it from here, guys. Give us…maybe an hour.”

Finn grumbled as he stood, but followed Daniel and Neville as they moved across the gym to the bench presses and free weights.

“Where’d you learn that?” Dean pressed, using the ropes to swing himself into the ring on his arm strength.

Seth shrugged. “Seemed like the best idea at the time.”

“I like it,” Dean said. “Downright entrepreneurial.”

Seth narrowed his eyes. “You just like it because it’s something you would do.”

“Well, come on, show me what you’ve learned,” Dean smiled, widening his legs to assume a fighting stance.

“Do they know?” Seth wondered, nodding his head towards the three he’d been training.

“What, about fight club? Nah, they’re professionals. Wouldn’t be caught dead for fear ‘a hurting their careers. Now bring it!” he jeered, curling his fingers.

Dean was a lot bigger than either of his previous opponents, and while he was able to implement a few of the side rolls Neville had given him pointers on, he spent most of their sparring match getting knocked on his back. “Your movement’s improved already,” Dean complimented, making sure not to excessively jar Seth’s ribs as he pulled him to his feet for the fifteenth time. “You’re a quick learner.”

“Still, I can’t just run away the whole time,” Seth panted, arm circling his middle. “I’m gonna’ have to hit back eventually.”

“I assume you’re talking about more than just headbutts,” Dean said. “We’ll get there, I promise. First you gotta’ learn to take some hits.”

“So, what?” Seth asked nervously. “You and Roman gonna’ take turns socking me in the face?”

“While that sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, I think we’ll try it with headgear and pads first,” Dean answered wryly, jumping from the ring to pull boxing padded helmets and gloves from under its sides. “Put these on, Mayweather.”

Seth awkwardly donned the gear, unused to the weight of it and the constriction of his fingers. “Now what?”

“Now you put what you learned to use,” Dean said, pulling back his arm and landing a held-back right cross to Seth’s cheek.

“Ouch,” Seth said wryly, raising his glove to press against his jaw.

Dean shrugged, grinning, and Seth couldn’t help but grin back. This was the kind of thing he’d been looking for all along. Without warning, he pushed up and delivered a dropkick straight to Dean’s abdomen.

“Little shit,” Dean muttered, climbing back to his feet from where he’d been sent sprawling against the ropes. Seth shrugged.

Dean stopped holding back so much.

Seth dove out of the way to avoid the flurry of Dean’s fists, but he was tired, and Dean was intent on catching him. While he used some of the rolling and twisting pointers Neville had given him, Dean’s padded knuckles still made contact with several points on the outside perimeter of his chest, clearly avoiding his more injured core.

Without thinking, Seth went in for another headbutt, but instead of hitting Dean with force, Dean somehow reversed it and headbutted Seth instead. Seth fell to the mat gasping and grabbing his forehead. “Holy fuck, do you have a steel plate in there?” Seth whined, but the amusement was clear in his tone.

As he moved to stand up, his vision was suddenly overcome by a wave of bright spots, and he would have fallen had Dean not grabbed onto his bicep to steady him. “Maybe I do,” Dean frowned, feeling at his own head.

“It’s not your head,” Seth reassured him, grabbing onto the ropes for support. “Shit, I guess I’m really not eating enough,” he sighed. “Or maybe the energy drinks…”

“How the fuck are you even alive at this point, kid?” Dean wondered, pushing Seth lightly to get him to climb down from the ring. “You pick fights you can’t win, you work all night, you go to school all day, you go to the gym in between there, you’re obviously not sleepin’ during any of that, you get sick, you don’t know how to take care of yourself—“

“I’ve managed just fucking fine without Dean Ambrose for twenty one years,” Seth shot back, angry at being treated like a child again.

“That’s not what…” Dean sighed. “Look, I’m expressing concern, ya’ get it? Concern. I am concerned. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with age.”

“Oh,” Seth said, embarrassed. “Well…don’t be. I’m fine.” He kind of had to be.

“C’mon,” Dean waved. “I think I got some cold pizza in the break room.”

“Breakfast of champions,” Seth muttered, stomach clenching. He didn’t really have the right to decline.

He had just enough time to make it back to campus and shower before his shift at the bar, but even Axel made a few comments about his energy levels. “I’m doing the best I can, alright?” he finally broke, frustrated. “Once I get a schedule worked out, everything’ll be fine!”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Axel pointed out, slapping him on the back like usual.

Seth frowned at his back as Axel walked away.

He’d never had so many people doubt his capabilities at once. He was good at everything. He’d always been good at everything. And this was just one more thing that needed to be conquered. And he would do it.

No matter what.

He startled when he heard glass shatter, looking down to realize he’d crushed a wine glass in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at writing fights, which goes to show you how much of a brilliant idea it was for me to write a FUCKING FIGHT CLUB AU.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysterious blond man...  
> Seth's plan?

Seth v. Kofi (30-1)

Well, at least his odds were getting better.

He stared at the board a moment longer before stepping back, not bothering to try and identify his opponent. He was learning that sometimes, not knowing was better, so that way he didn’t psych himself out if the guy looked scary. “Hey bleach boy,” he heard from behind him, and he turned to glare automatically at the owner of the English-accented voice.

“What?” Seth asked, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Shame Kofi’s left knee is in bad shape, aye?” Wade said, giving Seth a wink before moving off into the crowd in front of the board, large form towering over almost all others.

Seth stared after him. That was…unexpected. Was he just given some advice? By Wade? Just when he thought he was figuring out all the rules of this place, someone came along and made him rethink just whose side everyone was really on.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sami asked, bumping his side gently. He was dressed to fight that night, shirt slung over his shoulder and knuckles wrapped with a few layers of bandages. “You look like someone pulled your feet from under you.”

“Nothing stranger than usual,” Seth sighed, shaking his head. “So you’re all healed up? You sure it’s okay to be fighting this soon?”

“Well, of course it’s not okay,” Sami laughed. “But I’ve been practicing my kickboxing skills so I can rely on the bum shoulder less. I’ve gotten pretty good, too.”

“Okay then, Van Damme,” Seth joked. “When do you think _we’re_ gonna’ get to go at it? I’ve gotten a lot better since Dean put me on my ass that first time.”

“Let’s see how you do against Kofi, first,” Sami pointed out.

“Did you already get a look at the board?” Seth wondered. He hadn’t even seen Sami near it.

“I was there earlier,” Sami waved his hand. He did a little double take as he squinted at Seth’s face in the bad lighting. “You have a beard!” he said accusingly. “Tryin’ to show me up?”

“Hey, I like it,” Seth said defensively, feeling the thicker stubble on his chin. And he did. He hadn’t expected to. “Don’t be jealous that I got the beauty and the talent.”

“You sure you’re up for this? I heard about Damien.” Sami said, lowering his voice. “Though he was released from the hospital, no one’s seen him around.”

“I’m not losing sleep over it,” Seth shrugged. And he wasn’t. Not really. Clearly the guy was a Grade A coward.

“Well if not Damien, then definitely something else,” Sami said lightly, grasping him by the shoulder and shaking it gently. “You look tired, man.”

“I’m fine!” Seth growled, trying to handle on his temper. “Look, I’m gonna’ walk around.”

“Okay, man,” Sami said, “Didn’t mean any offense.”

Seth nodded, but he couldn’t get rid of the frown, feeling his anger tug at the corners of his mouth. He stomped over to a wall and leant against one of the cement columns, just observing as people arrived and greeted their friends. It was a surreal moment, just considering where he was and what he was doing. What he was about to do.

Being angry during a fight wasn’t good. It made people irrational. It made them miss things. He needed to work on it. He could still feel the scabs on his palm from the wine glass.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” a man with a rough voice said, and Seth looked up to see a large man leaning against the next column over, a few meters away. His blond hair hit him just past the shoulder, his features broad and masculine, wide shoulders narrowing to a thinner waist. He was one of the oldest men Seth had seen at the club, but he also had an air about him that suggested he could handle anyone that came at him.

“Not the world,” Seth said carefully, gauging the running distance to the crowd. “Just my world.”

“You don’t have to worry about little old me, kid,” the man said, smiling at his nervous behavior. “I’m only interested in talking. I haven’t been around for a while, and I like to get to know the new blood. It helps me get a feel for who works well together. What’s best for business.”

“Do you help set the fights up?” Seth asked curiously.

The man shrugged lazily. “I just make suggestions. I heard about your fight with Ambrose a few weeks back. I can’t imagine what idiot thought _that_ was a good idea.”

Seth shrugged back, unable to help a smile. “You know, I think that was the most fun I’ve had in a year. Dean…he took me seriously. That’s the best I could have asked for.”

“Huh,” the man said, one eyebrow quirking. “You think the rest don’t take you seriously?”

“Adding ‘kid’ onto everything, I think not,” Seth said accusatorily. “I came here to punch people, not deal with sandbox politics. They’ll have to take me serious when I start putting all of them in the ground.”

“I’m assuming you have a plan to make that happen?” the man asked, interested.

“Of course I do,” Seth nodded. “I’m gonna’ win. Every fucking time. I’ll find whatever makes them tick, and then I’ll shut it down,” he mused, thinking about Wade’s tossed out advice.

“Huh,” the man said again, smirking. “You know, I’d really like to see that happen. It’s been a while since anyone’s shaken things up around here. And I really am getting tired of dealing with Dean Ambrose and his interference.”

Seth paused. Considered the man next to him. Was this…was he being approached? He swallowed, glancing down at the cement floor. And he’d just been shooting his mouth off. “Yeah, he can be…pushy. Not what you’d expect from someone who seems so carefree.”

“He sticks his fucking head where it doesn’t belong,” the man said darkly. “But enough about him. I saw that you’re set up with Kofi tonight. You think you can handle it?”

“I…think so,” Seth said, now trying to choose his words more cautiously. “I’ve heard he’s got a bad knee.”

“And you’d use that to take him down?” the man asked, eyes widening with interest. “You wouldn’t feel bad about exploiting a weakness?”

“Weaknesses are there to _be_ exploited. Even if it wasn’t a knee, it’d be something else. And I’d use that, too,” Seth said intently. “It’s not just a fight to me, it’s a game. And you don’t lose out on an advantage just because you might ‘feel bad.’”

“That’s stone cold,” the man said, smile growing. “I like it.”

Seth shrugged, reaching up to tighten the band around his hair. “Anyway, I…I should get going, they’re about to start,” he pointed to where the circle of men was forming.

“Good luck, _kid_ ,” the man nodded cheekily, whistling a few notes as he went to the back of the warehouse, in the opposite direction.

Seth watched him leave, a little shaky. There was something about the guy that didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t obvious, but there was a subtle…bloodthirstiness to him. Not Dean’s chaos, but something different. Something that slit throats in an alley rather than started brawls.

His was the third fight of the night. He shook hands with Kofi before they started, noting with amusement that the wiry, dark-skinned man tried to squeeze his hand much harder than necessary. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn every one of these guys was a child. He quickly scanned the crowd, but he didn’t see Dean or Roman watching the fight. It was fine, he didn’t need them to babysit.

Kofi tried to take him down quickly, putting far more power than he could afford into trying to clock Seth’s head for a knockout. Seth knew why. Though he tried to hide it, Kofi was clearly favoring his leg. And even if Wade hadn’t pointed it out earlier, Seth would have done exactly the same thing.

He waited for Kofi to tire out, taking a few punches to the torso and wincing when Kofi’s fists brushed his ribs. He was able to avoid most of the face hits, using some of Neville’s tricks to roll and twist out of the way. When he felt that Kofi wasn’t expecting it, he hooked Kofi’s injured leg and pulled, sending the man to the floor. Quickly, he sat on his back and put him in a chokehold.

“You give?” Seth panted, relenting slightly.

Kofi shook his head, trying to claw his way out of Seth’s grip. Angrily, Seth used a leg to push against the back of Kofi’s knee, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Call it!” Seth ground out, squeezing the air out of Kofi’s lungs.

Finally, on the fringe of passing out, Kofi relented, tapping his hand on the cement. Seth let go and pushed off, letting the night’s ref hold his arm up as the winner before stalking away, breathing hard. He wasn’t tired, he was filled to bursting with something similar to adrenaline, but angrier. He punched a column, feeling a little release at the pain in his bones. He had no idea where the rage was coming from, but he needed to get it out. He punched the column again.

“Hey,” the man from before said again. “I saw the fight.”

“Congratulations,” Seth growled, resting his forehead against the column and squeezing his fists together. He needed to fucking calm down.

“Got something for you,” the man said.

Seth sighed and turned around, his mouth dropping open at the stack of hundreds the man was waving in his direction. “What is that?” Seth asked dumbly.

“You’re a good investment,” the man said. “I’m just letting you in on the return.”

“You bet on me?” Seth said. “Why? The odds were against me.”

“You sold me, and I bought it,” the man grinned. He reached for Seth’s hand and shoved the cash into it. “Don’t spend it all in one place. Or, you know what? Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“I don’t—“ Seth tried, staring at the money.

“Give it back, and we’ll have a problem,” the man said.

Seth swallowed, anger being pushed down by something else. “Alright,” he said, shoving the stack in his pocket. “Why give this to me? Why not keep it all?”

“I gamble for fun, not for pocket change. I like being right. And I’d like for you to keep winning.”

“Okay,” Seth said. “I can’t make promises, but I’m gonna’ fucking try.”

“Try not punching cement, does wonders for the body,” the man smirked. “I’ll see you next week, Seth.”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Seth called as the man started to walk away.

“Imagine that,” the man laughed, once again heading to the back.

Seth looked down at his swelling knuckles. It felt good to win.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts always welcome...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth is kidnapped.  
> People are concerned, for different reasons.

“I quit.”

“You what, now?” Axel asked, hurriedly slamming a beer down on the bar before turning to face his employee.

“I’ll finish out the week so you can find a replacement, but then I’m done,” Seth said, not meeting his eyes. “You pointed out that I was stretching myself too thin, and you were right. I am. I was. So I quit.”

“Well,” Axel said, scratching at his shoulder, “I can’t really stop you. To be honest, I was hopin’ you’d decide to quit your… _CrossFit_ class instead, but it seems like you’re in too deep.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Axe, but I…this is something that I need to do for myself.”

“I get that,” Axel nodded slowly. “I s’pose I just gotta’…hope you know what you’re doin’.”

“Hardly,” Seth offered him a small grin. “I just know that this feels like the right thing right now.”

The reality was that he’d gone through the weekend feeling an unusually crushing sense of depression. Neither Dean nor Roman had tried to contact him after his fight, and while it was maybe childish to not want to text them first, he felt like he would be intruding on their lives if he did so. He had this nagging sense of doubt eating away at the back of his mind. Did they really even care at all?

Was Dean’s big spiel about concern just a lie to get him to trust them?

Did they find someone better?   

Seth hadn’t realized what he was missing until they weren’t around anymore. He’d never felt real, deep friendship with anyone like that, ever. It had all been…superficial. And he hated how empty he felt without it. That feeling of needing support from others rather than standing on his own. He _hated_ it.

“Oh, hey!” Seth heard, and he snapped from his musing to see Sami smiling in front of him, dressed in a nice button down and slacks. “I didn’t know you worked here! I usually come on weekends but felt like a drink today!”

Seth whistled, making a show of eyeing Sami’s outfit. “You’re not a lawyer, are you?”

“Pshh, you kidding?” Sami waved his hand. “I’m in finance. Numbers are easier than people. And hey, was that supposed to be an insult?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be anything,” Seth assured him, thinking back to Sami’s huge apartment and expensive car. Finance, huh? He should look into that. “I’m here to serve. So what’s your poison tonight?”

“I feel like something sweet after the day I’ve had,” Sami sighed. “How about a Screwdriver?”

“House specialty,” Seth said, pulling orange juice from the fridge in the back. “So, long day, huh?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sami sighed again, rubbing a hand across his bearded chin. “You know how it is. The boss wants the impossible, and you gotta’ remind him that you can’t treat money like imaginary numbers.”

“This another CrossFit friend?” asked Axel, peering at them from the end of the bar.

“Yeah, he says he comes on weekends. You don’t recognize him?” Seth wondered.

“I look different during the weekends,” Sami said in explanation. “Much less put together. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know me now from then.”

“I’ll be in the back,” Axel said slowly. “Call me if we get a rush.”

“You got it, boss,” Seth mock-saluted.

“Friendly guy,” Sami said wryly, talking a swig of the glass Seth put down in front of him.

“He normally is,” Seth shrugged. “I just told him I was quitting, though, so he might be in a bad mood from that.”

“Oh?” Sami asked with interest. “Did you find a better job, or something?”

“Or something,” Seth smiled wryly. “Anyway, I don’t wanna’ talk about it.”

“That’s fair, I hate talking about my job, too. Oh, did you catch the game last night?”

Sami was easy to talk to. He didn’t press for information, he didn’t second-guess, and he didn’t judge when Seth got a little too sarcastic for most people to handle. Seth didn’t feel nearly the same connection with Sami as he did with Dean, but he that didn’t mean he wanted to push Sami away. Sami had a way of getting him to let his guard down, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“So, Seth…” Sami began uncertainly. “I wanted to—“

“Hey, Sethie boy!” Dean’s loud voice rang out over the din of chatter in the bar, and Seth broke from his conversation with Sami to shoot an annoyed glare at Dean and Roman, who were pushing past people to drop down on both sides of Sami at the bar.

“What are you doing here?” Seth asked dully. “Are you bringing more bad news?”

“Why would you say that?” Dean asked, eyes narrowing.

“The only time you ever look for me is if you want something or something went wrong,” Seth said. “So which is it this time?”

Roman glanced at Sami before jerking his head to the door. “Can you get your boss to watch the bar? We need to talk.”

“I’m busy,” Seth said, wiping at the bar with a dishrag.

“Axel!” Dean yelled, startling Seth, and waited a moment before Seth’s boss appeared from the back office. “We need to talk to this little shit! Can you watch the bar for a minute?”

“I got it,” Axel waved, coming to stand next to Seth.

“Well I don’t wanna’ fucking talk to you!” Seth shot back petulantly.

“Roman,” Dean said, “you know what to do.”

“What the fuck are—“ Seth protested, Roman’s large hands reaching over the wooden counter to grab Seth’s biceps and bodily lift and drag him over the bar to the other side, narrowly missing Sami’s head. Despite getting an elbow into Roman’s side, Roman was able to throw Seth’s body over his shoulder in a carry. “Put me down!” Seth growled. “Put me the fuck down!” he shouted into Roman’s broad back.

“In a minute, princess,” Dean said, ruffling Seth’s hair as it began to slip from its band in order to mess it up even further.

Roman paused and shifted Seth’s weight, looking over his shoulder at Dean. “You’ve lost weight.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Seth groaned. “ _Put me down!_ ”

“Hey, guys, you don’t need to treat him like a potato sack,” Sami said. “He clearly doesn’t want to go with you, so why don’t you just leave?”

“You hear this guy?” Dean asked Roman. “How about you mind your own business, Sami. We got a bone to pick with this kid, so you stay the fuck out of it.”

“Dean!” Seth complained, trying to push off of Roman’s shoulders with little success. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My-my problem?” Dean laughed, slapping Seth on the back hard enough to make him cry out in surprised pain. “You owe us, you little asshole, and we’re here to collect. Let’s go, Ro.”

“Hey!” Sami protested, taking a step forward.

Dean turned and got up close in Sami’s space, their faces inches apart. “You know you can’t win this fight, man. Back. Off.” Seth couldn’t see much from his vantage point, but Dean’s tone just by itself was terrifying.

Sami stared at Dean for a full thirty seconds before admitting defeat, stepping back to the bar and looking over at Seth on Roman’s shoulder. “Look, whatever you’re gonna’ do, he’s just a kid, Dean. Don’t…”

“Don’t _what_ , Sami?” Dean pressed, setting his hand on the back of Seth’s head. “Do tell.”

“Dean!” Seth roared.

“Hold on, buddy, you’ll get yours soon enough,” Dean said, pushing down on the back of Seth’s head. Patting Roman on his empty shoulder, he made for the exit, ignoring all the bald-faced stares of the patrons watching the spectacle of the barkeep being kidnapped. Why wasn’t Axel helping him?

Seth struggled in Roman’s grip, palms pushing against the muscled planes of his lower back, as his and Dean’s booted feet crunched against the gravel of the parking lot. His heart was racing as he saw Roman dig in his pocket to yank out the keys to his truck. “Seriously, what the fuck did I do?” Seth questioned, barely getting the words out as the blood began to rush to his head.  

“Be quiet,” Roman said, pulling open the door of the backseat and throwing Seth inside, where he bounced off of the cushions.  

Dean and Roman quickly climbed inside and started the engine, gunning out of the lot and nearly hitting a few co-eds on their way. Seth stared at the backs of their head, breathing hard, hair in a messy cloud around his face. Of all the ways he could have imagined Dean and Roman showing up, none of them were remotely close to this scenario.

They drove for a few minutes in complete silence before Roman made a sharp turn, pulling into an empty strip mall parking lot. Dean and Roman looked at each other and then climbed out of the front, Roman moving to the back to open Seth’s door. “It’s okay,” Roman said, “you can get out. We’ll take you back in half an hour to get your bike.”

Seth looked between the both of them, hesitating before complying. His head was pulsing with pain, and he felt a little like someone had been holding it underwater. “The fuck,” he said, sucking in a deep breath. He was shaky, like he was going to fall over.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over with,” Dean sighed as Roman reached out reflexively to help Seth stay on his feet. “If he kept pushing, I thought I’d actually have to punch you or som—“

Dean’s head reeled back as Seth’s knuckles ground into his cheek. “Okay, I guess I deserved—“ He reached out to catch the next hit. “You only get one, Seth.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Seth yelled angrily.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna’ open _that_ door,” Dean said.

“Dean,” Roman grunted. “Not the time.”

“I thought you were gonna’ kill me or something, you assholes!” Seth said, running a nervous hand through his hair. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, so it’s like this,” Dean said. “Cody told us he saw you with H. We need H to think you and Ro and I have got problems.”

“Well we fuckin’ do _now_!” Seth growled.

“Anyway,” Dean ignored him, “Axel calls us from the bar and says another suspicious dude is there and asks if he’s trouble. It’s not trouble, it’s just Sami, _but_ …We decided it was a good opportunity for other people to think we got in a fight or something. Sami’s nice but he’s got a big fuckin’ mouth, so everyone should know by next week.”

“It was all a fuckin’ setup?!” Seth said. “I fuckin’ hate you two, you know that? You couldn’t clue me in to the damn plan?”

“We needed it to look real,” Roman added, forehead still furrowed in concern as Seth nearly tripped over his own feet pacing back and forth.

Seth leaned out of his reach and stilled, letting his blurry vision settle back to normal. “And, wait, who the fuck is H?”

“Blondie? Big? Generally slimy human being? Talked to you last Friday?” Dean said. “Ring any bells? Yeah, well he’s the worst of the worst. And lucky you, he seems interested.” Dean eyed Seth up and down, who suddenly felt self-conscious in his band shirt, skinny jeans, and with wild hair. “I’ll buy you dinner to apologize,” Dean offered. “You like Chinese?”

He didn’t wait for Seth to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just comes out, sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitor to Dean's gym.  
> Mmm watcha say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while under the influence of sleeping pills, so if it sucks, I blame that. Shorter bc it was necessary.

“Would you put some gosh damn effort into your fucking kicks?” Dean barked, deflecting Seth’s assault and catching his leg under his arm.

Seth tried not to be conscious of the way Dean’s muscles felt as they squeezed around his calf and the way his body seemed to radiate heat, more so than a normal person. It was ridiculous, really, to be so aware. He already knew that Dean was built.

“Gosh damn? Really?” Seth mocked, turning his head away. With a little pull, he dislodged his leg from Dean’s hold and stumbled back into the ropes.

“You don’t fuckin’ take the Lord’s name in vain, you little shit,” Dean said matter-of-factly. Seth’s whole body shook with laughter. It was such a ‘Dean’ thing to say.

“My turn,” Roman said, nudging an indignant Dean out of the way. “You need to learn to take down people who are a lot wider than you are. I say go for the knees. Not _my_ knees,” he added quickly. “Hypothetical…knees. I need these.”

Seth had put H’s money towards those classes, and while they were exhausting, he could already feel his muscles growing larger, his body harder than it had ever been. His face itched with the now-prominent hair growth lining his jaw, but he had to admit that it didn’t look half bad. In fact, it aged him a few years, which he guessed was the goal all along. In quitting his job, he had more time to catch up on school work, and when he actually studied, he got hungry and didn’t forget to eat. He was tired, but he also felt more like a real person than he had in a while.

Seth considered Roman before changing his stance, widening his legs and thinking about his center of gravity. Aim low, throw him off, maybe trip him up.

“Dean,” Natalya, one of the trainers, said, hurrying to the ring. “There’s a man here to see you, and he wouldn’t take ‘hold on’ for an answer. I think he was five minutes away from jumping the turnstile before I ran over here.”

“What’s he look like?” Dean asked.

“Umm,” she said. “Tall, broad, long blond hair, biggish nose…tan?”

“Shit,” Dean hissed, looking at Seth and rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair. “See that office?” he pointed across the room and tossed Seth a handful of marked keys. “It’s the one with the yellow tape. Get in there.”

Seth ducked under the ropes and jumped from the ring, jogging to the indicated room and unsteadily fiddling with the key in sweaty hands. He glanced over his shoulder to see Dean and Roman begin to spar. He yanked the door open and slid inside, pulling the door closed, but leaving a crack to peer out of.

He watched Dean stop pretending to fight with Roman and get the biggest smirk on his face, looking over at someone out of Seth’s line of sight. “You know this is trespassing, right? Imagine if I get the cops to come drag you out of here in your fancy suit, Hunter. I bet Steph’ll throw a bitch fit.”

“Dean,” the man said, and Seth recognized H as he stepped closer to the ring. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Very…third string chic.” He looked around, mouth twisting as though it’d just experienced a bad taste. “And we both know how much you won’t call the cops.” He looked over at Roman, lips curling. “Roman, it’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Roman said darkly, biceps flexing under his shirt sleeves as his body tensed.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We ain’t got nothin’ to talk about, last time I checked.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” H said, nonchalantly unbuttoning his jacket. “We have a very important something to talk about, in fact.”

“Sorry, H, but I just don’t feel the same way,” Dean said, clutching at his heart, “and if you really ever loved me, you’d let me go.”

H scowled. “In your fucking dreams, you lunatic. I’m here to talk about the kid. I heard you had a beef with him.”

“What kid?” Dean said, sounding genuinely puzzled. Seth had to give it to him, the man could put on an act. “Ro, you know what the fuck fancy pants is talkin’ about?”  

“Seth,” Roman said, stepping back to lean against the ropes. “That who you mean?”

“Seth,” H nodded, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.

From his position in the trainer office, Seth sighed. It was all really happening. It was all really insane. Maybe some part of him had hoped that Dean and Roman had been making all of this up, that it was some kind of game.

“Does he owe you something? Money? Drugs? Did he sleep with the wrong person?” H pressed.

“What the fuck is it to you?” Dean brushed off, turning his back on Hunter to do a few stretches in the center of the ring. “What’s between me and that little asshole is my problem.”

“Whatever it is, I want to buy it,” H said. “Assuming you haven’t killed the kid already.”

“Buy it?” Roman asked, not as good of an actor as Dean, his voice unsettled.

“He’s alive. For now,” Dean covered, glancing over his shoulder at Roman. “Not for much longer, though, once I get my hands around his scrawny throat.”

“Yeah, buy it,” Hunter said, looking between Dean and Roman, “His debt. I’ll fix whatever it is on your end, and then he’ll owe _me_ , instead. This is a onetime deal, Ambrose. Name your price, and I won’t even say anything when you overcharge me. You’re lucky you’d be too much of a hassle to put in the ground, or we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

“Frankly, I’m insulted that you’d think so lowly of me,” Dean grinned.

“Look,” Hunter said, annoyed, “just tell me what it’ll take to get you to stay away from the kid.”

“Do I look hard up, Moneybags?” Dean challenged, gesturing to the gym. “Maybe what I want is to crush his windpipe and feel the life drain out of him.” Seth swallowed, goosebumps charging over his skin. “To feel him as he shudders and cries and tries to beg me to stop, but can’t, because he can’t even remember what air tastes like. You can’t put a price tag on that,” Dean continued.

“You know, I didn’t really believe the whispers about you and Punk at the time,” Hunter said. “But maybe you’re just crazy enough to do it.” He shook his head, hair falling into his face. “Shame we never got along.”

“I cry myself to sleep,” Dean said wryly.

“Ambrose, do we have a fuckin’ deal or not?” Hunter growled.

“Hmm…” Dean pretended to think, letting his head totter from side to side. “How about, I give you the kid, promise not to touch a hair on his pretty head…and you give _us_ Kane.”

“What?” Hunter was taken aback for a moment before schooling his expression. “Dean, you know I don’t get rid of good workers that easily. It would be a huge pain to find a replacement.”

“Oh, I don’t want to _kill_ him,” Dean laughed, “I want to _fight_ him. In the ring. I want to see what the legendary monster can do when you take his dog collar off.”

“Frankly, I’m not sure you do,” Hunter shook his head. “But, okay, I’ll bite. You get one fight with Kane, and you don’t touch the kid again.”

“We both get a fight,” Dean countered, jerking his thumb at Roman. “It’s only fair.”

Hunter scowled. “…You both get a fight. Agreed. I won’t ask you to shake on it, because frankly, I don’t know where your hand’s been.”

“Hey, I took a shower last week!” Dean protested. “And don’t call me Frankly.”

“Fuck you,” Hunter said, turning on his heel and buttoning his jacket. “And remember, don’t fucking touch the kid.”

Seth waited a good five minutes before opening the office door, heaving a sigh of relief. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Why does he care so much?”

“He’s making an investment,” Roman observed, tying his long hair behind his head. “You always protect your investment…until it becomes a liability.”

Seth startled as Dean jumped from the ring and approached him, arm outstretched. “Dean, what the fuck—“

Dean slid his hand over Seth’s cheek, rubbing over the hair that was too long to be called stubble, but too short to be called anything else. “Touching you.”

Seth’s cheeks burned, and he swatted Dean’s hand away. “Fucking asshole.”

“This is gonna’ hurt,” Dean said apologetically.

“What—“

Dean’s punch hit him straight in the left eye, knocking him on his ass, the blow so hard that he could feel it immediately start to swell. “He’s gotta believe I came after you,” Dean said, reaching down to help him up. “I just thought I’d pull the bandage off.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Seth groaned, clutching his face. “I’m literally going to kill you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambushed and okay with it.

Seth bitterly stuffed another piece of orange chicken in his mouth, growling at the pain every slight tug of flesh caused to his unnecessarily swollen eye as he scribbled notes from his textbook into the notebook next to his lunch. His vision was so blurry that he was having trouble reading the small print.

Fuck Dean. Fuck everything. He slammed his pencil down on top of his abnormal psychology notes and sighed. At least this school shit was still easy. Closing his eyes, he let himself drown his thoughts in the buzzing chatter of the school food court.

“Funny, I don’t remember you getting hit there during your last fight,” H said, startling Seth by dropping into the chair across from him at his little two-person table. “But I did hear you got yourself into some trouble with Ambrose.” He dragged his eyes across Seth’s face. “Looks nasty, kid. What’d you do, call him stupid? He hates that.”

“Hey,” Seth said defensively, feeling his heart begin to pound, “I didn’t ‘get myself into trouble,’ the dude’s just unhinged. And what…how the hell did you know where to find me?”

The other man shrugged. “I have my ways.” While he was still wearing a tailored suit, his entire aura had changed with a now-shaven head, his previous blond locks reduced to stubble. Seth couldn’t help but think of it like honing a weapon. “Don’t worry about it. And for that matter, don’t worry about Ambrose anymore, either. He won’t mess with you again.”

“I…” Seth began, thinking. He’d practiced this. What he should say. But all of it seemed to be escaping him. He’d never expected to be ambushed at school. “You can’t know that, he promised he’d…” Seth lifted his hands to press against his throat for dramatic effect. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk to _you_ about it, now that I’ve apparently acquired another stalker. Telling me not to worry about it just makes me worry about it more.”

H frowned and stared at him a moment before bursting into unexpected laughter. “You know, I’ve had people kneecapped for being less rude than you are right now,” he mused, grinning, “but I like you, kid. I like your guts.”

“I…I don’t understand what you want,” Seth said slowly. “You follow me or have me followed here, you tell me I don’t have to worry about the homicidal maniac who’s been hounding me, and then you say you like me? I mean, that…it’s flattering, I guess….but I just don’t get it. C’mon, just look at me. I mean, what the hell do I have to offer? And you _do_ want something, don’t you? Nobody helps out for free.” Hell, Dean and Roman had taught him that one by getting him involved in this shit in the first place. “And who the hell _are_ you?!” He had to remember, H had never told Seth his name or who he was, so he had to pretend not to know what this was about.

The blond man stuck out his hand across the table. “Hello Seth, my name is Hunter. You could call me an entrepreneur in the fighting business. I would like nothing more than to turn you into a champion.”

Seth eyed the hand for a moment before hesitantly reaching out to grasp it. Well, he was royally fucked now. “Okay, Hunter…but you’re still avoiding all my questions.” Why did no one connected with the fight club ever answer a single fucking question?

“Yes, I am,” Hunter agreed, standing and smoothing out his jacket. “Get your stuff together, we’re going on a field trip.”

“What?” Seth questioned, looking around. “But—“

“Your afternoon class is cancelled,” Hunter said, picking up Seth’s notebook and shoving it into his backpack. “You’d want to go to the gym afterwards anyway, right? Well, we’re just going a little bit early today.”

“Ugh,” Seth said, uncertain.

“C’mon, kid. I don’t bite,” Hunter chuckled. “We’ll be back in a few hours. There are tons of witnesses here who would have seen you leave with me, so I’m not gonna’ murder you, or whatever your brain is spinning.” He pushed Seth’s backpack into his chest, eyes flicking up to Seth’s swollen face again. “Seriously, ouch.”

Seth was honestly a little bit afraid of what could happen if he went with Hunter, but he was also…curious. Despite what Dean and Roman had told him about what these guys were into, Hunter had never actually done anything bad to Seth. In fact, his record was purely helpful. He’d given him money, tried to protect him from Dean, and he hadn’t threatened him or held Dean’s debt over his head. He was slightly scary, but also…nice? At least a little bit nice. Maybe Dean and Roman had gotten this whole thing wrong.

“Okay…” Seth said, shoving the rest of his stuff into the bag. “I’ll go, but…just as a favor, please don’t actually murder me.”

Hunter laughed and reached out to clap Seth on the back. “Just trust me, this’ll be worth your time.”

Hunter led Seth to the school’s parking garage and a giant Cadillac that already had two people sitting in the front seats. Looking over at Hunter in question, the man gestured for them to climb in the back. “Seth, this is Jamie and Joey,” Hunter said. “They help me out with work, whatever I need. Say hi, boys.”

“Howdy,” the short man in the passenger seat said, offering Seth a bright smile and wave. His accent was almost anachronistic in the luxury setting, Seth unable to help smiling back at the country twang. Reaching back, he handed Seth a business card with an embossed “J&J” at the top. “I’m Jamie, and that’s Joey drivin,’ make sure to call us if you need anything.’”

The bald man in the driver’s seat simply nodded.

“Ugh, hi,” Seth said. “I’m not…really used to being driven around.”

“Well don’t you worry, Seth, Joey’s the best in the business. Ain’t that right, Joey?” Jamie said, Joey nodding silently in agreement.

“And…where are we going, again?” Seth asked as they began to pull out of the garage. “You said a gym?”

“One of mine,” Hunter confirmed. “It’s private, not open to the public. You don’t have to start using it, of course, if you can’t get away or just don’t want to. I only want you to know that you have options.”

“Huh,” Seth said, surprised. He’d been getting so used to Dean’s bullying him into doing things, to actually be given a choice felt novel.

“Don’t look so shocked, I’m not a monster,” Hunter grinned. “I’m just not above a little kidnapping every now and then.”

It wasn’t a long drive from campus, maybe fifteen minutes of awkward silence and a few attempts at humor from Jamie. They parked at the curb next to a nondescript building with no signage out front. “Is this…?” Seth asked, turning to Hunter for confirmation. At his nod, Seth popped the door open and stepped outside, squinting as his one good eye adjusted from the tinted interior of the Escalade to the brightness of the sun. “Are you sure?” he asked wryly, looking at the crumbling brick and dirty windows, and Hunter laughed.

“Just follow me,” Hunter said. “Jamie, Joey, meet us inside.”

Producing a set of keys, Hunter unlocked the front door and ushered Seth inside. He almost lost his breathe at the sight. It was small, but it had everything. Every conceivable machine, every piece of high tech equipment, huge tanks for cold baths, a bar lined with blenders and protein supplements. There were a few other people working out inside, but they were so intensely focused that they didn’t even turn in their direction.

“You like?” Hunter asked smugly. “Well, you can use it, if you want. I have an extra key for you. Come here any time, it’s available twenty four hours. All you gotta’ do is lock up when you leave.”

“But…” Seth said, gaze darting around, “what do you want in return? You can’t just _give_ stuff like this away.”

“Why not?” Hunter shrugged. “It’s mine, I can do whatever I want with it.”

Seth opened his mouth to argue but froze when his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He glanced at Hunter.

“You gonna’ get that?” Hunter asked. “Go ahead.”

Seth tried to hide his expression of worry as he read “Deano” on the call screen. “Baby, I don’t really have time right now,” Seth hissed.

“What the—“ Dean began, but paused. “Do you need us to come get you? Are you in danger right now?”

“No, it’s not that,” Seth said carefully, trying to will Dean to understand what he wanted to say. “I’m hanging out with friends right now, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“You sure? I’ll fuckin’ bust in there like Rambo if you need me to.”

“Please don’t,” Seth smiled. “It’s fine, I promise. I’ll call you in a few hours.”

“You better, _baby_.”

Seth rolled his eyes and hung up, shrugging at Hunter. “What can you do?”

“C’mon, kid, let’s get changed,” Hunter said, walking towards the back.

“You’re going to work out too?” Seth asked.

“I feel a little insulted that you sound so surprised,” Hunter said, shedding his jacket. “I have to keep my old bones in shape, too, and it takes a little more than wishful thinking.”

Seth felt self-conscious changing in the same room as Hunter, the older man revealing that he was clearly built like a tank as he took his clothes off. Seth pulled his change of his clothes from his bag and slowly began pulling off his shirt before Jamie and Joey burst into the room, roughhousing like children. “They were part of the club, too, in their day,” Hunter said. “If you let them show you, they can teach you all kinds of tricks. You just have to keep an open mind.”

“This feels kinda’ surreal,” Seth said, pulling on a tight-fitting tank top.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Hunter said. “It’ll be real enough, soon.”

As Hunter commandeered a punching bag, Jamie and Joey took turns attacking Seth on a mat. As much as he hated to grudgingly admit it, it was fun throwing them around. He used what Neville and Dean had taught him about dodging and learned a few new grappling holds in the process. “Hooey,” Jamie whistled, “you got some moves, Seth!”

“Nice,” Joey said, rubbing a hand over his bare head.

“Interesting running into you here,” a deep voice said from right behind him, and Seth spun around only to run face-first into Randy’s chest, stumbling back a few steps. “I see you’ve been recruited. Though, I guess it was only a matter of time.”

“Umm,” Seth said uncertainly, surprised when Jamie and Joey flanked him, as though to provide support.

“Best be on your way, Randall,” Jamie said, not intimidated in the least despite the severe height difference. “He’s ours today.”

“Oh?” Randy smirked, muscles rippling under his tanned skin. “Isn’t that cute. Well, I’m sure he’ll be mine soon enough.” With a strange tilt of the head, he backed away, heading towards the changing room.

“Downright snake, he is,” Jamie muttered. “Anyway, you hungry, Seth? That there bar has a mean selection a’ goodies.”

“I’m okay,” Seth smiled wanly, his mood suddenly soured.

“Oh!” Jamie said suddenly. “Before I forget, here’s your key,” he said, pulling it from a pocket and tossing it to Seth. “We hope ta’ see you around more often. You can’t beat the boss’s place.”

“Yeah…” Seth said, staring at the key in his palm. “You sure can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys still with me?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A melodramatic emotional roller coaster (my specialty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when my wi-fi goes out, my writing gets dramatic. Also, I UPDATED CH. 14 RECENTLY SO MAKE SURE YOU'VE READ THAT BEFORE THIS.

“Nice?” Dean repeated incredulously, pacing around the office. “ _Nice?_ ”

“C’mon, Dean,” Seth sighed. “It was! It was nice, the people were nice—except for Randy. No one threatened to murder me or tried to get me to sell cocaine.  I mean, it was normal, you know?”

“Well, as long as you’re okay,” Roman said quietly.

“I feel like I need to check your brain for a fucking microchip,” Dean muttered. “And you’re _sure_ H didn’t want or ask for anything in return? He just threw a key at you and said enjoy? What the fuck?”

“Well, maybe there are people out there who actually just want to help me,” Seth said, annoyed. “People who don’t want to put my fucking life on the line, and who maybe actually give a shit about me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean said, stomping over to where Seth leaned against the first-aid counter. He brought his face to within inches of Seth’s own, his breath warm and heavy against Seth’s cheek as Seth turned his head to the side to get some distance. “You’re gonna’ stand here and tell us we don’t give a shit?”

Seth swallowed, frowning, unable to meet Dean’s heated gaze.

“Hey,” Dean said more gently, reaching up to wrap his hand around the back of Seth’s neck. “Hey, you can’t buy into what he’s selling, okay? I know…I know that compared to what we have, it’s…but it’s a lie, Seth. It’s all a lie.”

“You started that way, too,” Seth muttered.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, grip tightening to force Seth to look at him. “And you don’t feel anything else, now? You don’t feel something more than that?” He lowered his voice. “You think this is a lie?” He moved his free hand to trace the bruising along Seth’s eye, expression pained.

Seth exhaled slowly, caught by the crystal intensity of Dean’s irises in front of him. He reached out to shove lightly at Dean’s chest, pushing him back, trying to pretend that his heart wasn’t thumping painfully against his rib cage. “I _think_ that I’m tired of second-guessing everything and everyone, Dean. I’m just tired.” He fought not to curl his fingers against the reassuring warmth of Dean’s torso.

He jerked as Roman’s hand unexpectedly settled between his shoulder blades, looking up to find Roman’s eyes just as forceful as Dean’s had been. “You can trust us,” Roman said. “You _can_.”

Seth blinked, feeling a sudden pressure behind his eyes. “Don’t…don’t make me regret it.” He shook his head, trying to break whatever hold the weight of their words had on him. “Anyway, I should…I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “Make sure to tell us if you go back there again.” He held up a hand at Seth’s protest. “Look, it’s just in case anything happens. At least we’ll know the first place to look for you. It’s _not_ that we don’t think you can’t handle yourself.”

Seth sighed. “Fine,” he agreed, “but you two have to promise to tell me everything, too. No keeping secrets.”

“Fine,” Dean said.

“I mean it, Dean!” Seth said pointedly.

“I said okay!” he said, throwing his arms up. “Geeze, Ro, you believe this kid?”

“I’ll walk you out,” Roman said, ignoring Dean’s question.

Seth figured something was up as soon as they got past the turnstiles, Roman glancing at him repeatedly and then turning away, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. “Is something up?” Seth asked as they stepped into the cooler night air. “You look like you wanna’ tell me somethin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said. Seth felt taken aback. “I’m sorry that you’re in the middle of all this.” He frowned, smoothing the hair on top of his head. “Dean’s never taken to anyone like he has with you, so he doesn’t know how to say what he wants without getting it messed up.”

“What, you mean with his great people skills?” He may have been able to ensnare a crowd, but his one-on-one charms were lacking.

“Pretty much everyone Dean’s trusted has left. When the going got tough, they took off. When Dean got difficult, as he tends to ‘cause he’s an idiot, they didn’t stick around to see him through it.” Roman sighed, looking up at the stars. “I know you’re worried that we’re messing with you,” he continued. “We’re not. We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere. Maybe we aren’t there yet, but one day…we could be family.”

Seth turned away, unable to identify whatever feelings Roman’s words were causing to well up. Was it hope? Depression? Disbelief? Maybe all three.  

“You’re worried that we’re going to leave, or that we’re pretending to be something we aren’t,” Roman said quietly. “Dean and I are worried about the same thing. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you. We don’t want you to abandon us, either.”

“Everything’s so messed up,” Seth said, voice cracking.

“Hey,” Roman said, taking Seth by the shoulder and turning him back around. “Hey, everything’s gonna’ be okay.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Seth said, shaking his head. The floodgates were so close to bursting.

Without warning, Roman pulled Seth forward into a rib-crushing hug. Surprising even himself, Seth didn’t resist, just let his forehead rest against the thump of Roman’s heart. He was such a fucking loser when it came to basic human kindness.

“Seth,” Roman said, and Seth could feel the deep rumble of his voice now, “Dean’s going to try and push you away because he’s afraid that it’ll hurt more when you leave. Don’t let him do it.”

“What about you?” Seth mumbled, pulling himself back. “Do you think I’m going to leave?”

Roman’s mouth quirked into the barest smile. “I don’t know, but I’da hoped you liked us more than a fancy private gym.”

“I’d like you a lot more if you stopped punching me in the face,” he grimaced, feeling at his eye.

“It’s not too late for you to quit the club,” Roman said. “I doubt they’d spend much time or effort hunting you down, you don’t know anything yet. Dean and I, we’ll still be your friends, even if you do want out. Dean was right, it was a bad idea to begin with.”

“No, man, it is too late,” Seth sighed. “It’s too late. He knows where I go to school, which is where I live. My fucking class schedule. He found all that out only knowing what my first name was. I hope whatever plan you and Dean had to take them down was a good one, because that’s the only way it stops. Hell, I don’t know if even that will work.”

“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Roman growled.

Seth shrugged. “I think we both know it’s out of your hands.” He tilted his head, cracking his neck to relieve some of the built up tension. “I’ll see you around.”

Determined not to look back, he walked towards his bike, one of the few vehicles left in the parking lot. He picked up his helmet, which hung from one handlebar, and moved to put it on before spotting something on the seat. He picked it up, confused as to why there was a Polaroid taped to his bike, then squinted to make out the image.

“Ro…Roman!” Seth called, feeling the photograph slip from his fingers. He heard Roman’s booted feet crunching against the asphalt as he ran over to where Seth was, having not yet climbed in his truck as he waited for Seth to leave.

“What?” Roman demanded. “What’s wrong?”

Leaning down, Seth picked up the photo and held it out for Roman to take.

“What the fuck is this?” Roman said, thumb and index finger crushing the bottom of the picture.

It was a picture of Seth at school, and he vaguely remembered wearing that outfit earlier in the week. He was walking across campus, clearly not aware that his picture was being taken. The weirdest part was a red line drawn across his throat and large red X marks crossing out his eyes.

“It was on my bike,” Seth said numbly. “Great. Just great.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m going home. I give up.”

“Wait,” Roman said, catching him around the wrist. “We don’t know if whoever left this messed with your bike. Just…just let me tell Dean, and then I’ll drive you back. We can have Dean check out your bike in the morning.”

“Fine,” Seth said, not in the mood to argue.

Roman pulled out his cell and called Dean. “Hey…yeah, I know we just left, but come outside. It’s important.”

They waited in tense silence for Dean to rush from the building, looking ready for a fight. “What? What the fuck? Why are you still here?”

Wordlessly, Roman handed the picture to Dean.

“What the fuck is this?” Dean said, voice dark.

“I found it on my bike,” Seth said. “I don’t know who put it there.”

“A fuckin’ dead man put it there,” Dean menaced.

“Just hold on,” Roman sighed. “Look, I’ll take Seth back to his dorm. You bring his bike inside and take a look at it tomorrow morning, to make sure nothing’s wrong with it. Do your security cameras face the parking lot out here?”

“No,” Dean frowned, “they’re all towards the front door.”

“So we don’t have any way of knowing or guessing who might have done this,” Seth sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “What else is new. Until we do, I’m just gonna’ pretend it didn’t happen.”

“What the fuck kinda’ fucked up shit is going on lately?” Dean grumbled, holding out his hand towards Seth. “Leave your keys, I’ll check everything.”

Seth tiredly dropped his keys into his Dean’s open palm. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean said. “Seriously, don’t do it. You need all the worry for yourself.”

“Whatever, man,” Seth sighed. “I’m just…done.”

“Come on,” Roman said, jerking his head towards his truck. “You need some sleep.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna’ sleep tonight,” Seth said wryly. “Or for the rest of the fuckin’ year.”

“Hey,” Roman said, stopping him. “I meant what I said. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Roman,” Seth said, “it’s not up to you. You may have set this whole thing in motion, but you can’t stop it. You _can’t_ be there all the time. I wish that what you were saying was true, but if that picture proves anything, it’s that there will always be somewhere that you can’t be. There will always be a time when you can’t get there. I’m pretty much fucked. I am.”

“Seth—“

“No,” Seth said. “Let’s just…let’s just go, okay. We can deal with whatever the fuck this is tomorrow.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of 30,000 words, the first real cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely book better than Creative. In other news, HAVE YOU SEEN THE LOCKDOWN POSTER?????

“Alright, so one of us is gonna’ get to go at Kane tonight,” Dean said quietly as they got closer to the warehouse. “Because it would look weird if the other one didn’t stay to watch the fight, that means you’re the only one who can do this, Seth. You can say no, you don’t have to, and we’d figure something else out, eventually, but…”

“But I’m the best option,” Seth sighed. “No, I understand. You just focus on doing what you have to do. Drag it out, but don’t let him hurt you too bad, okay? He strikes me as a ‘shoot to kill’ type.”

“Don’t worry about us, we got each other’s backs,” Roman said.

“I think we can safely say that we’re a big group of worriers who are going to worry no matter no what,” Seth said.

“I ain’t worried,” Dean said. Seth and Roman looked at him. “What? I’m _not_!” Taking hold of Seth’s arm with excessive gentleness, he made a show of shoving him through the warehouse doors. “Move it, you little weasel!”

Narrowing his eyes at Dean, Seth pushed him back and then turned on his heel, stomping over to the white board. “Fucking asshole,” he muttered loudly, so everyone standing within five feet could make it out. He raised his eyes to look at the name list, frowning in worry as he focused on the familiar names.

Sami v. Kevin (5-1)

Seth v. Wade (30-1)

Dean v. Cesaro (2-1)

Roman v. Kane (0)

They all seemed to have losing odds that night, though he didn’t know what the “0” by Roman and Kane meant.

“Holy shit,” Sami whistled, taking the empty space next to Seth. “It looks like everyone’s gonna have it tough tonight.” He settled on Seth’s name. “Oh man, what a raw deal. You okay in there?” he lightly tapped Seth’s head. “That shiner looks sick, I can’t believe Dean or Roman would do that to you.”

“I’ll…probably be fine,” Seth sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. No doubt about it, Wade was _probably_ going to kick his ass, but he could at least put up a good defense. This was what he’d joined for, after all. Even with everything shady going on, to have his blood sing again would feel amazing.

“Fuck,” Sami muttered, eyes widening. “The boss is fighting? Actually fighting?”

“I take it that’s not a usual thing,” Seth said. “What does the zero mean?”

“No bets,” Sami answered distractedly. “It’s a no-money fight.” He shook his head. “The man himself, huh? I wonder…” He frowned, chewing at his bottom lip. “Agh, it doesn’t matter. For the next few hours, my brain only knows fighting, breathing, and Kevin. What a scary thought. I’ll see you around in a little while, Seth. Try not to die!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Seth waved him off, thinking. Wade was a big guy, much bigger than anyone he’d fought before. Should he do like he’d practiced with Roman and aim low, throw off his center of gravity? Or should he get in close to screw up Wade’s long reach and prevent the extension necessary to box at full potential? Whatever he did, he needed to be able to move quickly afterward. Should he lose on purpose?

“Looks like it’s you an’ me tonight, aye?” Wade said, breaking into his thought process. “Didn’t I say bad things happened to kids like you?”

“We’ll see if you’re still calling me a kid after I knock some of your teeth loose,” Seth shot back. He still wasn’t exactly sure what Wade’s game was. He’d warned Seth about the weirdos in the club, albeit in an offhanded way. He’d told him Kofi’s knee was busted. The things he said were completely at odds with the _way_ he said them.

“Ooh, scary,” Wade mocked, rubbing at his chest. “I’m shakin’ in me boots. We’ll have to play it by ear tonight, then. Won’t that be interesting.”

“What are you talking about?” Seth asked, confused.

“Oh, nothin’ to worry your head about,” he said. “Oi, where’d your two bodyguards end up? I see they have a lot of pain headed their way.”

“I…I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about,” Seth hissed. “If you mean Dean and Roman, we’re done. I can’t deal with those assholes anymore.”

“Is that how you’re playing it?” Wade asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s quite a strategy.”

“Playing _what_?” Seth asked, both annoyed and worried. How could Wade already see through what they were doing? Why did he help Seth? Why was he being so fucking cryptic about it?

Wade looked away into the crowd, and apparently seeing something that needed his attention, turned his back on Seth. “We’ll talk later.”

“Wait, what—“ Seth tried, but he was already moving away. “…what the fuck,” Seth sighed. What now? And he didn’t think things could possibly get more confusing. Clearly a fatal mistake.

He didn’t pay much attention during Sami’s match, caught in his own head, but he did notice that, by the end, both men were drenched in sweat and blood. And, somehow, still glaring at each other, even when the match was over. There was clearly a history there, but he didn’t have time to get into it. As two new men began to enter the ring, Seth moved forward to help Sami out of it. “You okay, man?”

“I’ll get him next time,” Sami grimaced, bracing his arm against his chest.

“Sure, killer,” Seth said, helping him limp through the crowd and towards the curtained-off medical setup. Seth guessed he’d lost, then. Luckily for them, Kevin had forgone medical treatment and wasn’t waiting there behind it. “Do you think you broke anything?” Seth asked, unsure if Sami wanted comfort or wanted to be left alone.

“Oh, nothing I haven’t broken before,” Sami winced, lowering himself gingerly onto one of the available stretcher-beds. “Anyway, don’t worry about me. You got a fight to win yourself, tonight. Go, go! Good luck, man, hope it’s better than mine.”

“Thanks,” Seth smiled tightly, ducking out and heading back over to the circle.

A heavy hand dropped down on his shoulder, and he instinctively twisted away, throwing himself back a few steps.

“Hey, man, I’m not lookin’ for trouble,” the shorter blond man said, smiling widely. “I just wanted to say that I’m lookin’ forward to your match tonight. You’ve gotten better every week, makes me hope we get to go at it sometime.”

“You’re…” Seth wracked his brain, “you’re Tyson, right?”

“That’s a fact!” Tyson nodded. “I’ve been doing this for so long now, sometimes I forget that there are people who don’t know who I am. And you’re Seth, I remember your name from the board.”

“Yeah…” Seth said absently. An idea hit him straight in the face. “Hey, this might be a weird thing to ask, but…do you think you could teach me?”

“Teach you?” Tyson questioned, tilting his head.

“Yeah, I just…I saw one of your fights the other day, the way you get so much air…and I just…I wanted to learn how to do that.”

“Huh,” Tyson smiled. “No one from here’s ever asked me that before. I never taught anyone, but it sounds kinda’ fun.” He looked at Seth, dragging his eyes from his feet to his face, but it was the intense calculation of a fighter rather than anything creepy. “You’re probably young enough to still be flexible. You ever train in any particular style?”

“Not really,” Seth shrugged. “I’m just trying to get a handle on a little of everything. To be the best, you have to know at least some of everything,” Seth said. “And I plan on being the best.”

 Tyson laughed, reaching out to hit his shoulder again. “How about we trade numbers and we can set something up? No promises though, champ. We all got lives outside of one night.”

“Sure,” Seth smiled back. “Thanks.”

As Tyson waved over his shoulder at Seth, jogging to catch up to the much larger European man Seth remembered him talking to before, Seth’s eyes swept over the crowd. The fight was dying down, and he knew he and Wade would be up next. By pure chance, he and Roman made eye contact as the larger man looked over at him, concern telegraphing across the massive space. Seth quickly looked away.  

“You and me now, kiddo,” Wade announced, slinging a long arm over Seth’s shoulder and guiding him to where one fighter was being declared the winner, the loser lying unconscious but thankfully still breathing. Seth tried to throw the arm off, but Wade maintained his hold, his controlled strength clearly something to fear. “Might wanna’ stop making heart eyes at your friends if you want to keep up the charade,” he whispered into Seth’s ear.

“Fuck you,” Seth growled, working up enough traction to push him away.

“Time enough, time enough,” Wade grinned, using his foot to nudge at the unconscious man. “Is anyone going to take care of this?”

After a few men volunteered to levy the man to medical, Wade stepped to where his body had been, toeing the blood on the cement floor, turning to smirk at Seth. “A vision of the near future, perhaps?” he said.

“Yours, not mine,” Seth ground out, nerves on edge. His thoughts were racing, considering the man in front of him. How the fuck did he know? Why was he being such an asshole about it?

“Wade, Seth,” the ref said, “are you ready?”

“Well,” Wade mused, rubbing his jaw with his thumb, “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Seth heaved a deep breath and nodded shortly, raising his wrapped fists in the air into a defensive position. Bouncing on the balls of his feet. Close, he decided. Close, and aim for the legs. If getting too injured, suck it up and submit. He had a job to do afterwards.

Wade matched his stance, bringing up his own fists, annoying smirk still in place.

But there was something different about the way he stood. It wasn’t his polished boxer up-and-down balanced motion. His legs were firmly planted, more than a shoulder’s width apart. His body weight was held in all the wrong places. One wrong move and he’d probably hit the floor, fall over. It was uncharacteristic of everything Seth had seen from him before. Unstable. Easily brought down with a sweep.

Seth looked up at Wade, confused.

The man’s eyes flicked to Seth’s legs and then down at his own.

What the fuck.

Was he leaving himself open on purpose to let Seth win?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade helps.  
> Seth still doesn't get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trash, here's the next chapter.

Seth frowned, overcome with both confusion and concern. On top of everything, which despite itself had started to make some fucking sense, Wade letting him win was a curveball that he was striking out on.

He twisted his neck, cracking it to relieve the tension, before setting his attention on Wade’s lower body. He would take the risk, but he wouldn’t go into it blind. He’d rush, but he’d still leave himself room to pull up short and draw back if Wade was just faking it. As he and Wade circled each other, Wade still maintaining his unstable crouch, Seth dove for it.

Ducking under Wade’s long reach, he tackled him at the waist, and Wade went down hard. Too hard, actually, for the amount of force Seth used to get him to the ground, crying out like Seth had caused a lot more damage than he actually did. Hesitating for the barest of seconds, Seth drew back his fist and began pummeling every part of Wade he could reach.

He got in a half dozen punches before Wade rolled and threw him off, Wade bleeding from the nose. “Someone’s been hittin’ the gym, haven’t they?” Wade grinned wryly, rotating his shoulder like he was trying to relieve a pain there. Wade stood, this time rushing Seth and getting in a few bruising punches of his own to Seth’s left cheek and abdomen before Seth was able to block them, his arms moving like lightning.

And then, inexplicably, they slowed down to a manageable level, Seth able to block with his forearms and turn the blows away. Seth glanced up into Wade’s eyes, mouth dropping open when Wade winked at him. What the fuck.

Seth used his elbow to catch Wade in the temple before bringing up his knee as high as it could reach to slam into Wade’s gut. Wade doubled over, scooting backwards, before subtly tapping his abdomen with the arm he’d wrapped around it. “Aim for me ribs,” he hissed quietly. “Make it look good, but don’t actually break them, aye?”

Seth hesitated, but nodded curtly. Realistically, Wade could put him in the ground if he really wanted to. He didn’t have much of a choice except to either lose, badly, or take what bigger man was offering him. For whatever reason that was.

Twisting his body, he threw his leg out in a spin kick, catching Wade in the side but holding back its full force. Still, Wade shouted and fell backwards onto his ass, clutching at his side. “You fucker!” he growled. “You fuckin’ snapped it!”

Seth swallowed, trying to ignore the shocked looks on most of the faces in their audience. He glanced over at the ref, who didn’t seem to know what to do. “I don’t think he can fight anymore,” Seth said. “Call it.”

The ref took a step towards Wade, who curled into his side on the ground. “Fuckin’ hurry and call it, mate!” Wade yelled. “I’m done with this shit!”

The ref looked startled, but nodded anyway. “Winner--Seth!”

After a few seconds of silence, a small amount of whistles and cheers sounded from the crowd, most of whom were still confused about the outcome of the match. “Help me up, then!” Wade demanded, holding out his free arm for Seth to take and haul him up.

Seth leaned down to take his hand, pulling the tall man up to lean against his side. “Head towards the medic,” Wade said quietly. Seth swallowed but obeyed, accepting Wade’s arm over his shoulder and leading them past the crowd and towards the back of the warehouse.

“Eugh,” Wade grunted, pulling away from Seth as soon as they were out of sight of the crowd. “That hurts my pride, it does. Letting a child like you take me out.”

“So why do it? Why do _any of this_?” Seth hissed.

“…I know what you and your little friends are trying to do,” Wade said quietly. “I suppose you could say that we have the same goal in mind. I’ve seen how Hunter has taken a liking to you…let’s just say that you getting close to him is also beneficial for me. For some reason, he doesn’t trust me, even when I’ve proven my loyalty. I can’t get into the inner circle. But he wants _you_.”

“You…” Seth exhaled. “But—“

“You and Ambrose and Reigns—how exactly had you planned on all this turning out? Do you even know _how_ to take the man down? This isn’t child’s play, he can and would end your life without a second thought.” Wade sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Hey, asshole!” Dean called belligerently, shoving Seth to the side. “How’d you get so much better since the last time I kicked your ass?”

“Drop the act, you idiot,” Wade rolled his eyes. “And take a shower.” His eyes flicked to Seth. “We’ll talk later.”

“What the fuck?” Dean hissed, drawing them both into the shadow of one of the cement pillars. “What was that?”

“He let me win…” Seth muttered. “He knows, Dean. He knows about everything.”

“How?” Dean questioned, eyes flashing. “Did you—“

“No, I didn’t tell him anything!” Seth replied. “But he knew, somehow. He knew everything.” Seth snapped back into focus, looking around wildly. “Dean, we can’t be seen talking! Go get ready for your match!”

Dean scowled. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this. Why don’t nothin’ ever go easy?” He scratched viciously at the back of his neck. “It’s almost time,” he said, “…be careful, okay?”

“Worry about yourself, first,” Seth offered a little smile, checking to make sure no one was looking before leaving Dean on his own.  

Seth stood in the back of the crowd as Dean and Cesaro shook hands at the center of the ring. They seemed to get along just fine, so at least Seth could hope that the match wouldn’t end in permanent injury. Just for fun, he made a show of booing loudly any time it seemed as though Dean had the advantage. Ultimately, though, the taller and broader European was too strong for Dean to overcome, a knock to the temple making Dean lose consciousness for a few seconds and fall to the ground.

The ref called Cesaro as the winner as an unsteady Dean struggled to sit up.

Seth had to fight the urge to rush to his side, taking solace in the fact that Roman did it for him, moving quickly to help Dean up and, with Cesaro’s assistance, half-carry and half-drag him to medical. Roman’s match was immediately after Dean’s, the last of the night, so he hurried back to the ring as the crowd grew and grew, every member of the club interested in what was about to happen.

Seth remained in the very back, so he was one of the first to notice Kane leaving the warehouse office, a wall of flesh and muscle and terror. He didn’t know how Roman was going to make it through this. This was such a stupid idea. Why had they come up with this? Why had he agreed to it? Still, he waited and watched as all eyes were drawn to the large man, who held nothing but bloody murder in his gaze and the set of his jaw. As Kane moved into the ring, Seth backed up from the crowd, carefully stepping between pillars as he made his way to the side of the warehouse.

As soon as the ref started the match, the loud cheers began echoing in the cavernous building. Seth slid from behind the final pillar and approached the office, hesitantly reaching for the doorknob. As he twisted it, he heaved a sigh of relief. It was unlocked. Well, at least that was one hassle he didn’t have to deal with. Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, he opened the door and slipped inside.

He didn’t want to risk flipping the light switch to alert anyone he was there, so he felt around in the dark until he reached the desk and pulled his phone from his zipper pocket, using its low light to scan over the papers on its surface. He didn’t understand most of it, but he snapped a few low quality pictures in case Roman or Dean could translate. 

Reaching down, he pulled open the first desk drawer to find nothing put a few pens and paper clips. Sighing, he slid it closed again to pull open the second drawer. This one was full of file folders. Seth pulled out the folders and snapped as many pictures as he could of the documents inside. Most of it was numbers, a few names he didn’t recognize, more gibberish that went over his head. He hurriedly stuffed the papers back into the folders and into the drawer, sliding it closed like the first.

The third drawer wouldn’t budge, and he lowered his phone near it to see that it was the only drawer with a keyhole. Fuck, of course they’d lock the important stuff up, they weren’t stupid like he apparently was. After a few minutes of deliberation, he decided to give up on the locked drawer. If he forced it open, they’d obviously know someone was trying to get into their business.

At a loss for what else to do, he stood, pocketing his phone and making for the door. He froze, able to hear a voice coming closer. Shit, shit, shit. His heart seized, beating so loudly that the voice was almost drowned out.

There was nowhere to hide in the small office. Only the desk and the chair. He could only stand there and pray that whoever it was would go away. But, of course, he heard the voice even closer and a hand start to twist the knob. Damn it, he was so fucked. He was dead.

“Oi, Hunter!” Wade’s loud, accented voice called, muffled but understandable through the door. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“What is it now, Wade? I already told you I wasn’t interested in those contracts,” Hunter said, but it sounded fainter as he moved away.

Seth let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Wade had helped him again.

Shakily, he opened the door a crack and made sure the coast was clear before slipping outside, sweaty and nervous. The crowd was still cheering, which meant that Roman and Kane were still going at it.

Seth squeezed to the front, hoping Roman would see him and know that his job was finished. He gasped when he saw what was left, doubting that Roman would be able to see much of anything through the blood pouring into his eyes from a slice on his forehead.

Kane was in better shape, but not by much, bleeding from the mouth and one ear.

“Give up already!” Seth yelled, hoping Roman would get the message. Just give up. Their job was done.

Roman seemed to recognize Seth’s voice, as his head did turn in Seth direction for a fraction before turning back to grapple with Kane. Whether it was intentional or completely on accident, Roman’s knee gave out, sending him sprawling to the ground. He didn’t get up.

“It’s over,” Seth muttered. “It’s over.”

Kane offered the downed man one last kick to the back before stalking off, not even waiting for the ref to call the match.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking and thinking and drawing conclusions.

“Would you fucking hold still?” Seth hissed, dabbing at a slice over Roman’s eye with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide. He hadn’t expected Roman to be the twitchy one.

“It’s—ah—it’s fine,” Roman grumbled, more interested in shifting his gaze to look between Seth and Dean. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

Dean snorted, looking from Roman’s two black eyes to his multiple splinted fingers. “Brother, don’t even worry about us right now. I’m same as always, and the kid’s got his own story to tell.”

Seth raised his free hand to absently stroke at the bruises forming along his left cheek, knowing they should have been so much worse. “It’s not much of a story when I only have a few sentences,” he said wryly, using Roman’s distraction to aggressively press the cotton ball against the cut. “…a conclusion, at least,” he muttered.  

“Fuck,” Roman jerked, knocking Seth’s arm away.

“Okay, you know what? Fine,” Seth sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Get an infection. See if I care.” Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his phone and unlocked it, tossing it to Dean. “Look at the pictures. There really wasn’t much there. Not that I could understand, anyway. Then again, we probably should have known they wouldn’t leave things out in the open that scream guilty or suspicious.”

Dean began flicking through the photos, squinting to make out the tiny print on the papers Seth had taken pictures of. “And this was it?” Dean asked distractedly.

“Well…” Seth trailed off.

“What?” Dean pressed.

“There was a drawer that was locked. I didn’t want to risk it, not with…so many weird fucking things happening.”

“Explain,” Roman huffed, clutching tightly to his sore ribs as he shifted his seated position on the edge of the first aid ledge.

“So…” Seth sighed, “what do you know about Wade?”

Roman’s face twisted into a mask of distaste. “I told you to stay away from him.”

“I know you did,” Seth ground out, frustrated. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “But answer my question first. What do you know about him? _Why_ did you want me to stay away?”

“Because,” Roman said, eyes darting away to avoid Seth’s, “he….I’ve seen him do bad shit to people to try and get on Hunter’s good side. Really…really _sick_ shit. I didn’t…I didn’t want him to be jealous of what we were trying to get you to do. To get on the inside.”

“He does…he does want to get on the inside,” Seth said slowly. “He fuckin’ told me so himself. Tonight. But not for whatever reasons you’re thinking.” Seth paused, taking a minute to work out what he wanted to say.  “I…I’ve been thinking about this all night, and I…” Seth shook his head, running a hand through his now-wild hair.

“What?” Dean asked, finally glancing up from the pictures on Seth’s phone.

“I think he’s a…cop,” Seth admitted.

Dean’s mouth dropped open and Roman’s eyes widened.

“You fuckin’ think _what_?” Dean hissed.

“It makes sense,” Seth said defensively. “He’s trying so hard, doing whatever it takes, to get to H’s inner circle because he wants the same things that we do. He wants to take the whole operation down. He even spelled it out for me, basically.”

“He _told_ you he was a cop?” Dean said, brow furrowing.

“Well not…” Seth sighed, “not exactly. It was…it was what he said, and how he said it, and it just…I just think he is. If you were there, you’d know exactly what I mean, Dean. There was this…this vibe—“

“Cop vibe?” Roman said incredulously, hissing as he adjusted again.

“Don’t fuckin’ patronize me,” Seth said angrily.

“That’s not what—“ Dean said, scratching at his neck and wincing when he stretched his own bruised ribs. “Just think about it. It sounds a little crazy.”

“I _know_ it does,” Seth said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not right. Besides, he saw right through us. Everything. Our plan to pretend we hated each other, me breaking into the office while you distracted Kane. He knew exactly what we were doing. And on top of knowing that…he _helped_ me. He lost on fucking purpose.”

“I did think that was fuckin’ weird,” Dean nodded.

“And when H was coming into the office—“

“When _what_?” Roman thundered.

“When H was coming into the office,” Seth continued, ignoring him, “Wade distracted him so I get out without being seen. Okay, so you don’t believe he’s a cop. Fine. Whatever. But the fact is that he’s helped me out several times for no discernible reason or payoff for himself. So you tell me what makes more sense than cop and we’ll go with that.”

Dean held out Seth’s phone. “All of this shit, it’s just the accounting for the bets and where they want the money to go once it’s been collected. Once we’re back on our feet, we can check some of the places out. Until then…” he paused, meeting Seth’s eyes. “Next week is my turn. And we have to see what’s in the drawer.”

“But…” Seth frowned. “It’s locked, Dean, I…”

“I’ll figure something out,” Dean said.

“Dean, you can’t ask him to do that,” Roman protested. “We want recon, not suicide. What if it’s some kinda’ trap?”

“In a desk drawer,” Dean said, unconvinced.

“Well then I’ll do it,” Roman said.

“You can barely walk, big guy,” Seth pointed out. “No, I mean…it’s fine. I’ll do it, as long as you tell me what I need to do, Dean.”

“I’m not okay with this,” Roman frowned.

“I’ll work something out,” Dean said. He froze for a moment before seeming to vibrate with movement, apparently struck by an idea. “Okay, this is gonna’ sound crazy. You know that gym they took you to? Could you go back there?”

“Dean, what the fuck is wrong with you? You tryna’ throw the kid into the lion’s den?”

“I’m trying to move forward with the fuckin’ plan,” Dean shot back. “Too much shit is happening that I don’t like and that we didn’t…we didn’t think about. I don’t like any of this. I feel like we have to hurry. Like something bad’s comin’ our way.” He bent his hands and began to fidget, drawing shapes in the air. “And maybe we’d get there faster if Seth showed a little enthusiasm for once.”

“Are…are you blaming me for something?” Seth asked, blinking. “I didn’t even…you were the ones who dragged me here! Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No!” Dean said. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant…that’s not what I…I’m just a little fuckin’ wired right now and…and I…”

“You’re worried,” Roman said, tilting his head, long black hair spilling over one shoulder, matted with sweat. “What’s got you so freaked out, man?”

“I don’t know…” Dean said, hooking an arm around the top of his head. “I don’t know, and that’s what really freaks me out.”

Surprising even himself, Seth stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer until their chests smashed together none too gently. Dean’s muscles tensed for an agonizing few seconds before relaxing, his entire body slumping forward in one fatalistic movement. The sum of their body heat was stifling, and Seth was only brave enough to let his touch linger for a moment. “You can’t start losing it now, fearless leader,” Seth said, pushing himself back and away. “I need you to be strong, otherwise _I’m_ gonna’ lose it, okay?”

“Loser,” Dean muttered.

“I’m just here to look pretty and think on my feet,” Seth said, glancing between Dean and Roman. “So you guys better come up with a plan, otherwise I’m going to have to take over the designs, and I never majored in architecture. And come up with it soon, because I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Roman said.

“I’m going to their gym. I’ll do what I have to in order to get closer.”

“Wait,” Dean said, “I was just sayin’ stuff before, you don’t have to—“

“No,” Seth shook his head. “You were right, in a way. We’ve been…stalling. Looking around, but not really moving forward with anything. I don’t want you to get hurt because we’re dragging our feet.”

“Well you’re not getting’ hurt for us either,” Roman said.

“I won’t be,” Seth smiled ruefully. “They want me, after all. What good would I be if I was hurt?”

“No good. Zero good,” Dean said forcefully. “So make sure you’re not.”

“Dude, Hunter even got me, like, drivers, if I ever wanted to go back. Sounds like I’d really be suffering.”

“It’s all fun and games until you’re no longer making money, and then you’re a dealer, or a whore, or a fucking sandbag for target practice,” Dean hissed, bringing his face to within inches of Seth’s own. “I’m not gonna’ let that happen you,” he said, blue eyes lit from within.

“It won’t,” Seth said, expression softening. “Dean, it won’t.”

“You should go,” Roman said suddenly.

Seth turned to look at him, stung.

“It was a long night for all of us, and we could use some sleep,” Roman continued. “Sleep on it, on everything. We’re just tired and hurt right now, and we’re not making much sense. I need some painkillers and a bottle of something 150 proof. Let’s just call it quits. Dean, can you give me a lift? I’ll get my truck tomorrow.”

Dean looked at Seth in askance.

“I’ll be fine,” Seth assured him. “I’m not hurt, it’s just superficial. I’m okay to take my bike.”

As they all, in various stages of limping, walked out from Dean’s gym, Seth took a moment to breathe in the night air before slipping his helmet over his head. He watched through his visor as Dean and Roman pealed out of the parking lot before kicking his bike to a start.

For some reason, it felt like there was a distance growing between them. That any time Seth wanted to be near, there was something that they were keeping from him. Again.

By the time he pulled into his dorm lot, he was hit with sudden waves of exhaustion. He almost couldn’t process the sight of a large envelope taped to his front door.

Tiredly, he pulled the envelope off, not caring that the tape pulled some paint from the door as well, and ripped its top open, staring at the stacks of hundred dollar bills inside. He flipped it over to the read the front.

“Congratulations—H” written in a tight scroll across the middle.

Seth sighed, letting his head fall to thunk against the door. Yeah, real bad people he was getting involved with.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seth learns something he probably never wanted to know. maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your nice comments really help me get through the week, thanks for taking the time

Jamie and Joey seemed almost shocked as Seth offered them some of the cookies his mother had mailed him, prompting Seth to lower the bag of cookies in alarm. “Sorry, are you guys gluten free or something?” Seth asked hesitantly. He was trying to make friends, not poison them.

“We sure as hell ain’t! Give ‘em here!” Jamie said hurriedly, reaching an arm blindly behind him as he kept the other on the wheel, waving it up and down for Seth to insert a baked good. Joey gently took the bag from Seth and retrieved two cookies, putting one in Jamie’s hand and keeping the other for himself.

“I know we’re about to work out, but I figured a little sugar energy wouldn’t hurt anything,” Seth shrugged. “And if I keep these to myself, I’ll definitely eat them all at once.”

Joey broke off pieces of the cookie to eat it slowly, but a large smile was worming its way onto his usually stoic face. Honestly, Seth wasn’t expecting it to be this easy, but he guessed that he’d never really seen any indication that they were anything less than friendly.

“This is mighty kind ‘a you, Seth,” Jamie said, voice muffled as he spoke with his mouth full. “It’s been some time since we’ve had real home cookin’.”

“It’s nothing much,” Seth said awkwardly. They were acting like he’d just bought them a new car, or something.

“Nonsense,” Jamie said, loud voice filling up the space of the SUV. “It _is_ mighty kind. Mighty kind,” he repeated.

Seth actually kind of felt bad for manipulating them. They seemed like nice people, aside from whatever evil things they did on the side. “So I was wondering, do you guys ever go the fights? I mean, Hunter mentioned that you used to be members, but…”

“Aww, not really,” Jamie replied. “Boss has got us on other stuff. Real important business.” He paused. “Ugh, not that we don’t think your fights aren’t important or nothin’!” he added hastily. “We just, ugh, we got responsibilities, is all.

“I guess in comparison to what Hunter does, the fights aren’t really all that important,” Seth said slowly.

“Eh?” Jamie whistled. “He’s done told you that much already? I knew he wanted you to be a part of the family, but I didn’t think it’d be this quick.”

“He’s told me enough,” Seth hedged, trying to sound confident without revealing his hand.

“Maybe…” Jamie said, eyes momentarily meeting Seth’s in the rearview mirror, “maybe Joey and I’ll go watch you fight sometime, for moral support. ‘Sides, I heard you were gettin’ too good out there, boy!”

“Practice makes perfect,” Seth said, grimacing. “Even _I’m_ kind of amazed that I managed to beat that last guy without getting too banged up. What was his name? Wilson? Warren? Ugh, Wade, that was it!”

“Sure is a toughie,” Jamie agreed, as he began to pull the car in to park next to the same nondescript gym building. “You know, I ain’t never liked that one. Boss was always complainin’ about he was wheedling himself in, I’m glad you put him in his place.”

“Wheedling?” Seth pressed. “What for? I thought he was some kinda’ fancy business guy. Didn’t seem like the type.”

“Well, that’s what he _said_ an’ that’s how he _talked_ ,” Jamie said conspiratorially, “but me and Joey went ahead and had ole’ Irwin run the numbers. If he is a fancy investment banker, he’s a really bad one. Guy’s bank account is emptier than Joey after he’s had the extra spicy tacos at Chalupa on Taco Tuesday. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

Joey narrowed his eyes to glare at Jamie.

“He ain’t good people like you are, Seth,” Jamie nodded to himself, pulling the keys from the ignition and stepping out to open Seth’s door. “Give us a call when you wanna’ leave, me an’ Joey’ll be around.”

“Sure thing,” Seth nodded, jumping out. “Thanks for the lift, boys.” They were kind of dumb for giving away so much information, but it was also endearing that they seemed to like him so much. He’d have thought no one had ever been kind to them before, with the way they’d reacted.

He pulled the key Hunter had given him from his pocket and used it to enter, breathing in the familiar scents of sweat, rubber, and body spray. The air conditioning was intense, enveloping him in a frozen embrace before he’d even moved two steps forward, even compared to the cool air outside.

Then he felt something strange and alien wash over him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and he looked around to find the source only to meet the eyes of Randy, who was just sitting up from a set on one of the bench presses, sweat glinting off of his tattooed arms and shoulders. Jamie had said “Randall,” but Seth figured that wasn’t common usage, and he definitely didn’t want to piss this guy off. There was something about him that made Seth nervous, though he wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint exactly what it was.

Randy’s and Dean’s was one of the first fights Seth had ever seen at the club. Randy had helped save Seth’s life, basically, when that asshole Damien had felt insulted for whatever inane reason. It didn’t seem like Randy was actively seeking to cause Seth any problems. If anything, he was probably told by Hunter to help him out.

But Seth knew, instinctively, like an animal sensing danger, that he could cause Seth trouble if he wanted. That he would enjoy doing it. That he was one of those guys who set ants on fire and then, when he got bored, started doing it to people.

And maybe Seth was silly or stupid for making so much of it. But he was never one to take potential for granted.

The psychology-oriented part of his brain was screaming sadist at all the warning signals.

“Seth!” someone called, and Seth turned away from Randy in confusion only to find Sami happily strolling towards him, a towel thrown around his neck and covered in mottled bruises and wrapped bandages from his last fight. “I didn’t get to say it before, but I heard about your fight! I’m so impressed, man! You gotta’ teach me whatever tricks you used to get rid of Wade!”

“Sami?” Seth said dumbly. “What…what are you doing here?”

“Ugh?” Sami questioned. “I imagine the same thing as you are, working out?”

“Oh, right,” Seth said slowly. Fuck. In Hunter’s special members-only gym.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

This wasn’t…this was all wrong. This…

It was Sami. Even Dean and Roman had trusted Sami. Good old reliable Sami. Oh, fuck.

Seth had to pretend that he didn’t know anything, that everything was cool and normal and that Sami probably wasn’t the one who’d brought him to H’s attention in the first place and that the reason Sami seemed to live such an extravagant lifestyle wasn’t because he was fucking working for him and that the reason news got back to H so quickly wasn’t because Sami, great Sami, friendly Sami was informing on everyone straight to the big boss. Fucking shit.

He’d never even considered it. No one probably had. That’s what made Sami so good at what he was doing. No one could tell that they were the mark.

“Umm,” Seth said. “Are you…okay? From a few days ago. Your fight.”

“Probably?” Sami grinned sheepishly. “Well, the doc didn’t think I aggravated the shoulder too much, anyway. Still have to work on building it up to the strength it used to be. But forget that, you have to tell me how you got so good!”

Seth felt inherently sure that this was a test of some kind. Maybe it _was_ just his newfound suspicion, but it was as though Sami was trying to see if he was up to something. Maybe if he was still hanging out with Dean and Roman. If someone other than Hunter had their hooks in him.

“Oh, well,” Seth hedged, mental gears turning, “you know Axel, my old boss at the bar? I think you saw him when you were there. He used to do the whole wrestling circuit thing, so he helped me out a lot.” It wasn’t very specific, and it would check out if Sami ever looked into Axel’s history.

“What? That’s so awesome! Maybe you can give me a few pointers, some time? I gotta’ get that rematch with Kev.”

“I’m sure he’d love the opportunity to beat you again,” Seth said wryly.

“Ouch,” Sami shook his head. “Where’s the loyalty, man?”

“I must have left it in my other basketball shorts,” Seth said, a little too coldly when it came out.

“Okay, well, I’m headed out,” Sami grinned, smacking him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you next week, champ.”

“Sure…sure thing,” Seth forced a smile. He watched as Sami used his own special key to lock up, waving at Seth through the glass window set in the door.

“You didn’t know he was one of us,” Randy’s deep voice said, causing Seth to stumble back a few steps, as he hadn’t even heard or seen the other man approach. “Not very observant, are you? Then again, he was always the expert at being…well…stable. Irritating, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seth said stiffly, rubbing at his chest where his heart thumped wildly against it.

“You do,” Randy chuckled. “Maybe you aren’t at the top of your class, but you’re bright enough to realize that you’re the latest in a long string of shiny new toys.”

“Always nice to be appreciated,” Seth muttered.

“Would you like some free advice?” Randy said, white teeth bright in the grin that was offset by the coldness in his eyes.

Seth eyed him uncertainly.

“Whatever he asks you to do, you do it. No questions. No hesitation. No weakness. It doesn’t matter what you want, it matters what he wants. What’s best for business, as he likes to say.” He paused for a moment. “Otherwise, they send the busted toys to me.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Seth asked.

“Undoubtedly,” Randy said.

“I mean,” Seth hissed, frustrated, “is something going to happen that I need to know about?”

“Depends,” Randy said, still wearing the same infuriating grin.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Seth said.

Randy shrugged. “Just remember what I said, kid.”

Seth frowned, stepping further away as Randy moved to walk past him and over to the free weights. Maybe Dean’s bad premonition feelings weren’t really so far off. But it was also entirely possible that Randy was just fucking with him.

“Kid,” Randy said, back to Seth. “You haven’t seen Damien around lately, have you?”

Before Seth could respond, Randy was walking away.

“Oh, shit,” Seth muttered, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank goodness for Christmas breaks, law school is the absolute worst. 20/10 would not recommend.

Seth went back to Hunter’s gym every day for the rest of the week, putting on his best friendly face and trying to get along with everyone on Hunter’s team in the hopes that they would give away…something. Randy was there every afternoon, but he seemed content to stay in his own corner, for which Seth was eternally grateful.  

He mostly sparred with Jamie and Joey, who were treating him like he was one of the family. Seth had a feeling that he was missing a lot of important information because they sometimes slipped into a code only they were able to understand.

Seth hoped Dean had figured out what to do about the desk drawer, because it was getting closer and closer to fight night, and he still hadn’t heard a word from him or Roman. He was almost hoping Dean never came up with a plan, because he really didn’t want to have to go back in there. He was almost caught the last time, and he could feel that they were so close to being on the verge of cracking it all open.

On Thursday night, as he was riding back to the dorm, he was startled by the flashing red and blue lights that flickered behind his bike. He’d only been going five miles over the limit, no reason to get pulled over. It was late, so when he did pull off from the road, he made sure it was under a bright street light. He pulled off his helmet and let it hang over the handlebars.

“I feel like we need ta’ speak before tomorrow, boy,” Wade said, stepping out from the unmarked government vehicle and approaching Seth’s bike.

“I knew it,” Seth breathed. “You are a cop.”

“Interpol, technically,” Wade shrugged his broad shoulders. “But the locals know I’m here, and it’s the FBI who has to make the arrests. I just borrowed a siren for this particular visit.”

“So you really were helping me the whole time,” Seth said.

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment,” Wade said mildly. “I’m starting to think I should have broken something to keep you out of it, like I had to do with Dolph.”

“Yeah, well…I’m glad you didn’t,” Seth muttered. “And you’re…trying to bust Hunter?” Seth asked carefully.

“In a manner of speaking,” Wade nodded. “If it was only him, the organization could have him replaced and still keep the whole thing running. We want the entirety, we want everything up by the roots. The drugs, the trafficking, the…other unsavory bits.”

Seth sighed. “This is so much bigger than a stupid Friday night fight club.”

“You’ve got no idea, kid,” Wade chuckled darkly. “Which is why you’ve no idea how vexed I am by this predicament you’ve gotten us into.”

“ _Me?_ ” Seth said incredulously. “Dude, I didn’t even do anything, Hunter just—“

“Yes, yes, I know,” Wade said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying for months to get on his good side and then you walk in and he wants you just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “It’s horribly annoying. Now I have to account for Ambrose and Reigns ruining everything I’ve been trying to accomplish.”

“Well, if you let us in on it—“

Wade laughed. “ _Trust_ Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns? You must be joking.”

Seth frowned. “Then we’re at a standstill, because you either say nothing and risk butting into us, or tell us everything so we can help you and stay out of your way.”

“I’ve worked out a compromise,” Wade said, admiring his cuticles.

“Oh yeah?” Seth said, unconvinced.

“I tell you and only you what my plans are, and you say nothing to your mates.”

“What?” Seth said. “There’s no way that would work, of course they’d want to know.”

“Look,” Wade said seriously, clapping a hand over Seth’s shoulder. “You may trust them, but I don’t. Not as far as I could throw them. You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t had your doubts about where their loyalties lie.”

“I…” Seth frowned. Wade wasn’t wrong, he had questioned them before, but he did trust them now. Mostly.

“Exactly,” Wade said knowingly. “So we keep tabs on each other, and you steer Tweedle Dee and Dumb out of my way if they come up with any particularly stupid ideas. Now tell me, Seth, what were you trying to do in Kane’s office last week? You owe telling me that much, at least, since I kept you from getting caught.”

“There’s a locked drawer in Kane’s desk,” Seth said. “I was looking through his papers and noticed it. We were trying to work out what’s inside it. Dean wants me to break in while Kane’s distracted.”

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Wade sighed, shaking his head. “Do you have a picture?”

“I...what?” Seth didn’t follow.

“A picture, do you have a photograph of the lock?” Wade asked impatiently.

“I…maybe,” Seth said, slipping his phone from his pocket and scrolling through the photos he’d taken. There were a few of the desk and the locked drawer, some clear and others blurry. He held his phone out to Wade, who squinted at it and then began typing.

“I’m sending all of these to me,” Wade said, “they’re of better use in my hands than yours. I’ll have someone take a look at the desk and see if we can figure out the make, the locks might come standard.”

“You can do that?” Seth asked, impressed.

“Maybe,” Wade replied, distracted. “Meet me before the fights tomorrow, I’ll text you a time and place, and we’ll see if I can get you a key to open that drawer. Infinitely wiser than simply breaking it open, yes?”  

“But then what the fuck do I tell Dean and Roman?” Seth asked. “Hey guys, I got my hands on the key to all our problems, but don’t ask any questions?”

“You seem like a fairly intelligent young man, I’ll sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Seth said wryly. He paused, a thought coming to him. “Hey, Wade, now that we’re cooperating and all, do you think you could do me a favor?”

“If you’re asking me to fix parking tickets, then no,” Wade said.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Seth replied, biting back his annoyance. “You know Damien, who used to be at the club?”

“Damien Sandow, that giant wanker?” Wade asked, confusion evident. “Yeah, I know of him. Hasn’t been around in quite a while.”

“You think you could track him down, or at least ask your…contacts…to keep an eye out for him?”

“Why the interest?” Wade questioned, eyebrow quirking. “If he’s a player in the organization, he’s surely not a major one.”

“He has a grudge, and I have the strongest feeling he’s gonna’ show up to collect at the most inopportune moment possible,” Seth said, running a hand through his hair. “Randy mentioned him to me, off the cuff. It was weird. I just…” he shrugged. “Can you accept ‘I have a gut feeling he’s going to cause trouble’ as an answer?”

Wade considered him a moment before finally nodding curtly. “I’ll ask around, see where’s he’s been keeping himself. Trouble seems to gravitate towards you like a magnet, so I suppose it’s only right that we pay attention to it.”

“Thanks,” Seth nodded back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, kid,” Wade waved, heading back to his car. “Seems like my role will be lookout for the rest of our time together. Fantastic,” he muttered.

“Right,” Seth shook his head, grabbing his helmet and settling it back on. “Because everything needed to be even more complicated than before.”

 

 

Seth never did have to meet Wade the next day, because when he’d climbed onto his bike, he’d found an envelope taped to his seat, a winking emoticon drawn on the front and a newly minted key inside. He was getting really tired of everyone in the fucking club knowing where he lived.

He’d told Dean and Roman that his roommate owned a lock picking kit, and for whatever reason, they’d bought that obvious lie. Seth had a feeling it was because Dean still hadn’t come up with anything, but he was still desperate to know what was inside the drawer. It was a little unnerving to Seth how badly Dean seemed to want to take Hunter down and how much he’d risk for it, especially when he hadn’t really given Seth a concrete reason why.

Yeah, Dean and Roman had given him a spiel about how they wanted their old club back, but it seemed like way more than that. Some history that they weren’t telling him about. Well, what else was new.  

When he’d agreed to keep Wade’s information a secret from Dean and Roman, he hadn’t fully appreciated the consequences of that decision. He’d demanded over and over again that Dean and Roman not keep secrets from him, but there he was, turning around to do exactly that.

But there was also a sick little voice at the back of his mind that said he was just evening their playing field. It was only fair. Right?

Seth wasn’t on the board that night, but as before with Roman, Dean’s name was paired with Kane’s at the bottom, the odds at zero. Roman was also absent from the board, maybe they were giving him a buffer from the beating he’d taken from Kane the week before.

Either way, Seth couldn’t be around them, as they still had to pretend to hate each other.

“What’s up, Cody?” Seth asked casually, spotting his erratically swaying classmate in the crowd. “Haven’t seen you in psych for a few classes, you doing okay?”

“He’s been busy with other things, things of greater import,” Cody said, eyes darting from face to face as bodies flowed into the warehouse. “But, still, he wonders if he might borrow your notes, as the final exams are approaching.”

Seth chuckled, cracking a large grin. “Of course you can, man, but you’re the one who’s going to have to fight through my handwriting.”

“If Stardust can translate ancient alien languages, I think he can handle the scratchings of Seth Rollins,” Cody sniffed, turning his head up.

“Sure, sure,” Seth nodded. “Actually come to class and I’ll make you some copies.”

“…I accept your proposal.”

“Seth!” Sami said loudly, approaching them with a smile. “The great and almighty Stardust,” Sami added nonchalantly, ducking his head towards Cody. “Can you believe the boss is fighting again tonight? Geeze, I gotta’ wonder what’s going on there.”

Somehow, Seth imagined Sami already knew exactly what was going on.

“But hey, looks like Roman and Dean’ll be too busy to bug you anymore,” he continued.

“Lucky me,” Seth smiled mildly, trying to school his expression into something resembling what they used to have. One suspicious move on his end, and everything could fall apart.

He let his fingers trace the small key in his pocket, glancing up as he spotted Wade and the Irish guy walk in together, chatting animatedly. Everything seemed like it was going to work out fine, so why…

Why did something feel so off.


End file.
